Dear Beneficiary (34 page)

‘If you do not answer questions when directed to you, then your punishment is likely to be more severe. Do you understand?'

Again it was Fasina who answered the judge by way of a nod, while Chike stared into the middle distance as if he was posing for a portrait and needed to look enigmatic.

The judge looked at him briefly, shook his head and peered down at his papers, taking his time perusing the contents while unwrapping a chocolate bar and eating it noisily. He whispered to a neighbouring clerk, who had to refer his question on to the prosecution team, one of whom went outside and returned a few minutes later. Once he returned, the Chinese whispers went in reverse, until the judge was given the answer he required.

‘I understand you don't have any legal representation,' said the judge, looking at the defendants over half-moon glasses.

Chike whipped his head round and hissed at Fasina, leaning his body into him aggressively enough for his prison guard to pull him back with the handcuffs, as a dog owner might do with a lead.

Fasina coughed and answered the judge: ‘We do not have the funds for lawyers.'

‘And whose fault is dat?' hissed Chike again, struggling aggressively against the restraint he was under.

The judge banged a gavel on the bench and called for silence in the court.

‘Unless you are answering my questions or those of the lawyers, please keep your comments to yourself, Mr Buhari. Can you confirm you wish to go ahead with this committal without any defence in place?' he said, again looking over his glasses, giving him an increased aura of authority.

Fasina nodded. Chike sucked his teeth loudly and kicked his co-defendant sharply on his shin bone. Fasina yelped. The judge ignored him and called on the prosecution to read out the charges.

A prosecution officer told the court the two men had been found defrauding individuals and companies out of hundreds of thousands of pounds using fake office set-ups. The name John Baker was mentioned, and I assumed that was our ‘rescuer'. He'd gained access to data available to him through one of his business contacts.

‘We've been monitoring the entire operation with the help of our specialist technology partners, Forensix Inc., and have traced a number of bank accounts which have been emptied as a result of their victims supplying personal details under false pretences. To our knowledge, they have amassed over three hundred thousand dollars in the last two months alone. They also prey on vulnerable Britons, often oil workers but in this case, for the first time, older women, whom they hold to ransom.

I closed my eyes and shuddered, hoping no one thought of me as I did then – a silly old cow with stupid ideas of her own attractiveness.

There was another yelp from the witness box. In a moment of relaxation while the prison guard had loosened his grip slightly, Chike had lashed and kicked out at Fasina, this time stamping on his feet and elbowing him in his ribs, hard.

The judge said: ‘Please keep your arguments to yourselves.'

He turned to the officer and asked him to continue, adding: ‘Am I correct in thinking there may be further charges?'

‘We have two female witnesses, one of whom has been a victim of the “Dear Beneficiary” email scam directly linked to this group of criminals. The other was not connected to this particular crime,' added the officer. ‘Both were kidnapped and imprisoned soon after their arrival at Lagos airport, on the pretence of being offered help finding friends in our country. Our defendants targeted Mrs Cynthia Hartworth after accessing her email accounts and tracing a booking from London to Lagos in her name.'

My shame didn't run too deep. Tracey and I were united in being foolish enough to follow our hearts. Better than letting them rot in middle-aged decline until late life incapacity waved goodbye to all passions.

The judge glared at the witness box for long enough to make both Chike and Fasina look uncomfortable. He closed his file and stood up, coughing to indicate that the rest of the court was also expected to stand. I noted that the courtroom protocol wasn't nearly as formal as in my days on the bench, where anyone not respecting the authority of the law would face contempt, not only of the court, but every single magistrate and official in the room.

‘In the absence of any legal assistance I suspect the defendants' ability to effectively cross-examine anything is highly dubious,' he said. ‘There will be a short recess, and on my return I hope to be able to come to a clear conclusion about this matter,' he added on his way out.

The court buzzed with discussion and further aggression from Chike towards Fasina. They were both taken down into the cells to the sounds of further yelps and shouts.

‘What's going on?' Darius asked the prosecution officer.

‘The prison guards told us the defendants had to be separated, as they keep fighting. The shorter, fatter one keeps accusing the taller, thinner one of stealing their cash. He swears he didn't, but it seems they have no funds at all, despite the likelihood they should still have thousands we've not yet traced,' he replied.

At this point the main doors to the room crashed open, and a small, bespectacled man fell through on top of a police officer who, in turn, fell into the lap of a large woman who'd been watching the court proceedings while knitting three pairs of baby bootees in succession.

‘Mind the bird,' shouted the small man, getting back on his feet just as a large parrot flew up into the air from under a blanket he'd been carrying, coming to rest on a ledge atop one of the high windows just above us.

‘Suck my cock,' shouted the parrot, followed by ‘tits out, no knickers', and it was then I recognised it as Pussy. No other bird would be quite as rude.

‘What in the good Lord's name is going on here?' asked the judge, as he came back to his bench, wiping crumbs of chocolate from his face.

‘Fuck off,' said Pussy, and let loose some droppings which landed on top of Tracey.

‘Fuck off yerself,' yelped Tracey, as she tried to wipe the muck off her hair with the sleeve of her blouse. ‘Filthy git.'

‘Filthy git,' mimicked Pussy, watching from her new perch as the court descended into mayhem.

‘I am looking for Cynthia Hartworth,' said the man with the blanket. ‘She is the sole beneficiary of the macaw you see above you, left to her in the will of one of her fellow Britons.'

‘That will be you, then,' said Tracey. ‘Rather you than me.'

It was then that Luter came in and pointed his only arm in my direction.

‘There she is!'

The judge called order and asked the two men to explain themselves. They said they knew I'd be in court, from the publicity the case had aroused, and had been looking for me since Bill's death, as it was his express wish that Pussy be given to me.

Luter had tried to trace me to the university, but no one would hand over any information, having all been instructed to say nothing about us in case the kidnappers were trying to find us.

The men explained they had sent private investigators to find me, but they hadn't done their job properly. However, once the court date was announced they knew where I would be. At that point the business at the market, the cars following us and various other suspicious activities started to make sense. It turned out there had been a reward put out by the solicitors acting for Bill's estate, and they were given express instructions to find me.

‘While he didn't seem to have made it clear, it appeared that he took a liking to Mrs Hartworth,' explained the man to the judge. ‘We were told to find her, as he believed she would be the only person who could look after Pussy properly.'

‘Oh, no,' I thought. ‘What on earth am I going to do with a swearing parrot?'

I thought of the brief meeting I'd had with Bill and was flattered he thought so highly of me. He can't have had many friends.

‘Take the bloody bird out of here and sort this out when the case is finished,' boomed the judge.

‘Fuck off,' said Pussy, and was immediately charged with contempt of court.

After the matter of Pussy was sorted out as best it could be, with some explanations about who was following me and why, Tracey and I took the oath. I swore on the Bible, honouring my new-found connection with God, while Tracey opted for an agnostic version, having realised that swearing-in didn't require blasphemy.

Chike looked angry, and I wondered if he was thinking how I'd managed to steal his car and then wreck it. Fasina looked apologetic. There was no sign of Gowon and Chiddy, although it was confirmed how they'd supplied evidence about their bosses in exchange for not having to appear in court against their bosses or face any charges. I was relieved for both our sakes.

‘Were you given adequate opportunities to use the bathroom?' the prosecution officer asked me when I took the stand, at which point Tracey snorted loudly. I glared over at her, and she pretended to sneeze and cough.

‘Yes, indeed. We were well treated in that respect.'

‘And was there any physical abuse of any kind?'

‘Absolutely none,' I replied, daring Tracey to make any further comment, keeping in mind I could have mentioned her brutal assault on her guard and the use of her clothing to tie up Chiddy before our escape. She kept very quiet.

‘However, you were unable to leave the premises until you made your own escape, is that right?'

I said that was the case, and the questions were over. Tracey's interrogation was much the same, and although we were both told the defence had the right of cross-examination, it never came.

‘Will the defendants please stand,' the judge said, having allowed the defendants to sit during the proceedings as long as Chike stopped punching Fasina. He almost managed it, although every now and then a squeak or suppressed moan would come from the dock.

‘Do you have anything to say?' the judge asked.

Chike stood up, dragging his prison guard with him.

‘I do, sir!' he shouted.

Fasina looked to the floor and sighed.

‘Please, go on,' said the judge.

‘This lyin', cheatin', good for nothin' so-called man next to me stole all the money from our business account. There was thousands in there – all gone!'

The prison guards raised their eyes to the heavens and stood back to wait for the monologue they'd heard every night while the men had been behind bars.

‘We had a lot of money – all mine and earned from my hard work and investments, but it's gone.' He pointed at Fasina and shook his fist. Fasina sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘He the only one, the only one, who knew my account numbers, he steal everythin'. That is why we've no defence, me lord and honour. That is why.'

And with that he promptly sat down and adopted his previous pose, crossing his arms for further effect.

The judge looked at Fasina, who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head in denial.

‘I think from what we've heard, you are both cheating, lying thieves who have taken advantage of gullible people. You pray on their weaknesses and a lack of understanding of the technology you have clearly mastered. I sentence you both to fifteen years imprisonment with no parole. Any money or assets taken from your accounts will be held by suitable authorities for repatriation to your victims.'

Chike shrieked and stamped his foot. Fasina shrieked because Chike had also managed to stamp on his foot at the same time. They were immediately led down to the cells, and this time both of them were whimpering like babies.

‘Nice work,' the prosecution officer said to all of us. ‘We won't be seeing them for a long time,' he added, shuffling his papers back into his battered briefcase.

‘I'd like to make a point of saying well done,' said Darius to the team gathered round. ‘To one very brave lady, Cynthia, who took on an entire gang almost single-handedly and won!'

Tracey whooped in agreement, despite her own contribution to the final outcome. And the fact she still had parrot poo in her hair.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The publicity surrounding the court case was phenomenal. We were hailed as heroines to have taken on the kidnappers and escaped unscathed. Questions were thrown at both Tracey and me, asking how we dealt with the conditions and how we were treated.

Tracey still snorted when asked if we were physically abused in any way, and I would always throw her a look, suggesting that any disclosure of my activities with Gowon would be met with severe punishment. She would cheerfully wink at me, and tell journalists we'd been treated with utmost respect by our guards at all times.

Darius pulled us away after half an hour of interrogation by reporters from across the world.

‘Your faces will be seen by people from countries in every continent,' he beamed, hugging me to him with his engulfing embrace.

I wanted to curl up and die, thinking about Mavis and friends looking at news clips, in which Tracey also told the media we enjoyed the drugs we'd been given and that more of Chiddy Bang's music should be played on British radio.

I know we all get our fifteen minutes of fame, but I didn't want mine for being a dope-swilling granny with a penchant for rap music. Even if it was partly true.

Darius arranged for us to be taken back to the camp by the investigation team to collect any belongings we may have left behind and to provide a first-hand account of where we were kept and what shacks were used by whom. Forensix Inc. had also pledged a substantial sum of investment money to turn the camp into an outreach centre, hoping to create a silver lining from a number of clouds.

We were just about to leave the camp after being emotionally reunited with a place that felt strangely home-like, when Buke arrived in her official car. Sweeping along the pathway to meet us she extended her arms wide to embrace both myself and Tracey.

‘My favourite 'ostages,' she said with a laugh. ‘So what do yous tink of da new school?'