Bitter Sweet (25 page)

26

Despite not having my car, or maybe it was because of that and as a consequence of having to rely on public transport, I was for once on time. And as Sod’s Law would have it, Mike was still dealing with a client and Oscar had phoned to say that he was running late.

Mike’s offices were on the second floor of an ornate-Victorian building on the edge of the city centre. As an independent accountant he only employed two staff, both of whom cleared off a few minutes after five, leaving me alone in the hall-come-reception area to study the high-ceilinged walls, or God forbid, read the out-of-date Economist magazines stacked on a small coffee table.

Neither boredom nor the Economist magazines got the better of me as Mike soon despatched his client and led me into his office. He gave me a big hug, settled me in one of the leather armchairs grouped around a low table on the other side of the room to where his desk stood.

His delight at seeing me again was evident in his eyes which followed my every movement. I was forced to laugh as one question after another poured out of him, all directed at my welfare.

‘Mike,’ I said, suppressing my laughter. ‘I’m fine and you saw me this morning.’

He sat down. ‘Yesterday gave me a hell of a fright. And you haven’t told me all that happened. And this morning you were well . . .’

‘Left in the dark.’

‘Sorry about that. Oscar’s doing.’

‘Which reminds me, I did a bit of surfing on the net before coming over. Queen’s Counsels are the top advocates in the country, what’s the going rate for a QC?’

‘I’m still negotiating with him.’

‘Well, give me an idea.’

Mike leaned back in his chair.

‘I need to know,’ I said. ‘It’s not going to be pro bono. I’ve just closed down my website. I’m out of business.’

Mike stood up abruptly. He sat down on the table in front of me and laid his hands on my knees. ‘Tina, you’ve no idea how glad I am that you’ve stopped.’

There was complete sincerity in his eyes and that something else which should never occur between an escort and a client: genuine emotional involvement. It went through my defences. I laid my hands on his.

‘You are special,’ Mike said.

I smiled, wanting to deflect by saying tha
t a lot of clients said that. That was also true. However, in that moment it became absolutely clear that Mike was sincere, and that he did not mean it within the context of escorting. I had interpreted it as an escort, whereas Mike, who had said it more than once to me, had always meant me, Tina, and not Nina the escort.

‘Mike,’ I said softly. ‘How much is Oscar charging?’

Mike stared into my eyes a moment longer as if I were some exquisite creation.

‘Okay,’ he said, lifting his hands off my knees only to put them back down. He smi
led. ‘No beating about the bush. Oscar normally charges £1000 just to cast his eye over a brief and give an off-the-cuff opinion.’

‘What’s a brief?’

‘A brief is prepared by a solicitor detailing the case.’

‘
Omigod.’

‘Slow down. He can afford to do your case at a knock-down price. I know
, after all I do his tax returns and inevitably he dumps them on me at the last moment.’

The intercom buzzed. Mike stood up.

‘You’re not going back into business to pay Oscar. Let me deal with him and don’t mention fees to him.’

Mike left the office. I had banked money and was debt free; however, the figure Mike had mentioned was scary, despite his saying that he’d get a bargain price out of Oscar. I distracted myself by looking around Mike’s office.

Thankfully there were no framed pictures on Mike’s desk, otherwise curiosity and opportunity would have got the better of me. Nor were there any family pictures on the walls, in fact, the décor was remarkably simple with just two large prints on the walls. One of which was a charcoal sketch of three monkeys representing; hear no evil, see no evil and speak no evil. The other print, and after this morning I was quite sure it was not a print, but was an original sketch of an Alfa Romeo Spider.

27

Mike returned with Oscar who looked tired, his suit was crumpled and needed to be pressed. He set his leather satchel down – it looked like the type school children used to carry, except that despite the scuffed leather, I was sure it had cost a bomb. We shook hands and he sat down.

‘How did the case go?’ I asked.

He smiled sardonically. ‘He got away with less time than he deserved, but that is why they pay me.’

Although it was just small talk, the comment about being paid rekindled my concerns as to how much Oscar was going to charge.

‘T
ina,’ Oscar said. He waited for me to make eye contact. ‘I apologise again for not having spoken to you before your court appearance this morning. Let me explain why.’

‘That would be nice,’ I said, putting on the best smile I could manage.

‘Yes,’ Oscar said with a rueful smile. ‘Let me start with the things you should have known before entering the court. The police arrested you, took you into custody and subsequently charged you with ABH. By taking you into custody the police must produce you at the next sitting of the local Magistrates’ Court. Which they did.’

Oscar crossed his legs at the ankles.

‘You will remember that your identity was ascertained and the charge was read out?’

‘Oh yeah,’ I said. ‘And then came the scariest bit – all those warnings about what would happen if I were to have pleaded guilty.’

Oscar waved a hand dismissively. ‘I could have stopped the procedure the moment the charge had been read out as I was not in possession of the evidence of the prosecution’s case. I let the clerk continue and signalled to you to remain silent, which you did – well done. The scary bit as you put it serves a purpose; a guilty plea equates to a sentence and depending upon the crime a criminal record.’

‘Okay,’ I said, twirling my ponytail. ‘I guess that makes sense. But it still felt as if the roof had been about to come down.’

‘Don’t forget,’ Oscar said, tapping the arm of his chair. ‘Normally you would have been prepped as to what takes place. And I was trusting in you to remain silent.’

‘You should stop smoking. When you cleared your throat, it was a real smoker’s rasp.’ I winked at him and smiled. ‘Dramatic, though, and jeez was I relieved to see you stand up.’

Oscar grinned.

‘And what was wrong with pleading not guilty?’

‘Why give anything away?’ Oscar said, still grinning. ‘That’s not the real answer. By declining to plead I upstaged the prosecutor and, more significantly, Harkins immediately grasped what I was up to.’

‘The judge?’

‘Harkins, but I’ll come to him shortly. Assault occasioning actual bodily harm is triable either way, which means the case can be heard in either a Magistrates’ Court or before a jury in a Crown Court. Later I’ll explain to you why I’ve chosen the latter.

‘Now to the insider information.’

I cocked an eye at Oscar.

‘Indeed. Harkins is a keen golfer, not that it reflects in his handicap – plays off fifteen. Today is Thursday.’

I frowned.

‘Men’s competition night. Harkins is glad of any excuse to speed the cases along. He did his best not to smile when I stated the obvious that the case is triable either way. And mentioning the court’s precious time, well . . .’ Oscar winked at me. ‘He knew that I knew that he would be delighted to have the case bumped up to the Crown Court. When the prosecutor rose to object to bail with no conditions, Harkins was going to have none of it. We were in-and-out of there in ten minutes – perfect for a Thursday.’

I was about to say; I hope that’s reflected in your bill, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

‘Now to the prosecutor,’ Oscar said, ‘Dougal Alexander. He usually deals with embezzlement, fraud and theft. So I was a bit surprised to see him this morning. Having said that, he is not to be underestimated and opinion has it that he is destined to rise within the Crown Prosecution Service.’

‘Whose opinion is that, his own?’

‘Very astute, T
ina.’ Oscar shook his head and smiled.

‘Growing up with the name Dougal won’t have helped.’

Oscar laughed. ‘When he started out he had to do traffic violations; there were a few beauties going around the CPS offices about Dougal and the Magic Roundabout.’

I shifted my bum on the armchair. ‘There is one other thing which bugs me. Why did you leave entering the courtroom till the last minute?’

Oscar dropped both hands on to the arms of his chair. ‘It’s normal for the defendant to be represented in the Magistrates’ Court, especially at a first hearing by a solicitor. It might be a court appointed solicitor, or as is often the case at first hearings a junior solicitor, or worst of all a family solicitor who deals mainly with conveyancing and wills. No doubt what Dougal had been expecting. Don’t forget he will have known it wasn’t a court solicitor as you had exercised you rights to request your own whilst being held by the police. Solicitors, particularly junior solicitors or family solicitors, tend to find judges like Harkins a bit daunting.  They just don’t have enough experience of the court system to make it operate for their own benefit.

‘Whatever Dougal had been planning went out the window the
moment I entered the courtroom and, by entering late, I gave him little chance to recover.’

‘Yes,’ Mike said. ‘He was shocked when he saw you.’

Oscar laughed.

‘His glasses almost landed on the floor.’ I tilted my head to one side, looking at Oscar. ‘What had he been planning?’

‘Obviously, I don’t know for sure,’ Oscar said. ‘The prosecution’s case was put together very quickly, and the allegation, as read out by the clerk, was very exact. That would lead me to believe that the prosecution thinks the case is watertight.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Driscoll said the victim – some bloody victim – is prepared to testify. And that it’s an
open-and-shut case.

‘Mike told me that charges of trafficking are pending?’

‘It’s absolute bullshit. Completely arse about face.’

Oscar started to grin. I stared at him. ‘This
is no laughing matter.’

He started to cough.

‘You really should stop smoking.’

‘Yes, you’re right and no, it’s no laughing matter.’

‘Well?’

‘I begin to see why Mike thinks the world of you.’ Oscar held up both hands. ‘What exactly did Driscoll say?’

‘He said something like; we’ll run with the ABH until the evidence comes together linking you to the trafficking offences.’

‘Any witnesses?’

‘Detective Crawford.’

Oscar pursed his lips and then nodded his head. ‘Bear with me for a moment. A run-of-the-mill solicitor, seeing the evidence against you, would have kept the case in the Magistrates’ Court. Harkins likes to keep a tidy diary and would have set a prompt trial date.’ Oscar uncrossed his legs, sat up and leaned towards me, looking serious. ‘H
ad that happened and was the victim to testify you would have been found guilty. And were further charges, for instance trafficking, to be subsequently brought against you, you would appear in the Crown Court as a convicted criminal. It shouldn’t happen that way, but it would affect the sentencing.’

‘Jeez that’s just great!’ I exploded. ‘That’s what you get for helping the victims of trafficking.’

Mike stood up. ‘Are you sure about that Oscar?’

‘If further charges are brought,’
Oscar said, addressing me, ‘the police will arrest you, hold you in custody, question you, the same rigmarole all over again including another court hearing.’

Bitterness coursed through me. I glared at the sketch of the three monkeys; they had it easy and were able to ignore injustice. I couldn’t, I was being framed.

The bitterness subsided. The monkeys were of no help. It was up to me.

I looked at Oscar. ‘Why do you want me in the Crown Court?’

‘All right, I’ll tell you.’

You’ll damn
ed well tell me.

Oscar leaned back into his chair. ‘The disadvantages first; when it comes to sentencing—’

‘I’m innocent.’

‘Yes, but we are a long way from proving that. Let me continue?’

‘Okay.’

‘The Crown Court has less wiggle room when it comes to sentencing.’ Oscar held up a hand. He must have seen the flash of anger in my eyes. ‘One thing at a time.’

I nodded.

‘The second disadvantage is that the Crown Court is more formal.’ Oscar crossed his legs at the ankles and studied his shoes for a moment. ‘Although we can turn that to an advantage. A witness, or in your case the victim, when testifying under oath in front of a jury and in the formal surroundings may be intimidated into telling the truth.’

‘He’d better, the worthless piece of shit.’

Oscar g
rinned. ‘That leads me to you, Tina. As long as you can control your language.’

I curled my lip.

‘You will make a good impression on the jury. They decide if you are innocent or guilty. The judge, if a guilty verdict is reached, hands down the sentence.’

‘I get you.’

‘It is easier to sway the hearts and minds of jury which does not fully understand the law. A single judge like Harkins and it’s only human nature, will judge based on the law and the facts presented.’ 

A dreamy look came into Oscar’s eyes and he raised a hand theatrically. ‘The charming, intelligent
and articulate Tina Thompson against the oafish and brutal accuser.’

‘You’re a silver-tongued devil.’

Oscar reached into his satchel, extracted a small tape recorder and set it in front of me on the table.

‘I want to you to tell me your story,’ he said, ‘in its entirety with no omissions. Think of it as a deposition. It is critical that I know everything, no holding back.’ He smiled at me. ‘I’ve heard it all before from countless clients. I have lost cases by not knowing all the facts.’

I swallowed. ‘Clients’ names?’

Oscar laughed. ‘You can mention Mike.’

‘Thanks,’ Mike said.

Oscar pressed the record button and I began to relate my version of events, starting with rumours going around about an Albanian mob muscling in on the red-light scene. The first cloud on the horizon was Erjon’s phone calls. That’s about when Martha, an escort of many years, who worked out of an apartment along the corridor from me decided to give up her apartment and quit for good.

Then there had been someone working on the building’s CCTV system. Next the intercom system went down. Mike hadn’t liked that. I smiled at him, remembering his ploy of using the names of ex-US presidents. There had been a problem with the intercom, but no one had authorised any work on the CCTV system.

I’d talked all this through with Mike. Then Ivonne showed up with Markus, a bodybuilder and part-time bouncer. As Mike had predicted that drew Erjon’s attention. He made an appointment to visit Ivonne, and Mike had arranged our own CCTV surveillance for my and Ivonne’s apartment in advance of Erjon’s visit. Mike also organised a device for planting a tracking program into Erjon’s mobile, to which Ivonne and I agreed. It was for our safety.

We got the program installed on Erjon’s mobile – that was scary enough. Erjon sensed someone else was in the apartment, maybe he was guessing it might be Markus. He held a knife to Ivonne’s face and demanded to know where Markus was. We had a lucky escape.

Just as we’d got the tracking device working, Mike and I went down to the lobby. Dumb luck, but whilst we were downstairs, Erjon came back into the building. He took Markus out, busting his knee and leaving him pole axed.

Next came the police raid. I explained Mike’s role as the white knight. How Driscoll had entered my apartment, his bulbous nose red with anger at discovering Mike. And then the horror of the press,
who’d been tipped off, and was waiting to photograph us being led away.

I went on to explain how Maria had run into our arms seeking help. And how minutes later I had discovered that the building’s CCTV feed from my floor was being rerouted to Martha’s ex-apartment which Erjon had taken over, and from which Maria had escaped.
How I’d rescued two other girls from the apartment. Suspecting that DS Driscoll was taking backhanders from Erjon, we decided not to phone the police and, instead, using disguises we’d fled with the girls in an attempt to reach a refuge.

I recounted our attempt to reach a refuge using the bus system. How we’d been pursued, the fabulous
way in which the bus drivers had helped us stay ahead of Erjon and his thugs, and how in the end, I’d made a hoax bomb threat.

Although Osc
ar said nothing as I mentioned the bomb threat, he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

‘I couldn’t think of anything else,’ I said. ‘I was desperate.’

‘Go on.’

I explained about ho
w we’d split up in Crew Street station. How the thug had come in through the station’s exit, right in front of me, and that I had known not to hesitate but to go on to the attack. It was that or lose Yana.