Torment (25 page)

He chuckled, surprised at her turn of phrase. “Yeah, she had some fun with that one.”

Phyllis took her drink back to her desk and resumed her work.

Souter returned his attention to the viewer and began spinning through the microfiche once more. Five minutes later, something caught his attention. Bringing the page back to the viewer, he saw an article on the retirement of a senior printer for the company, De La Rue. A photograph depicted a group of men and women surrounding a grey haired man accepting a silver tray from a distinguished looking bald man, all with broad smiles on their faces. That headed a quarter page article. The caption read,
‘Managing Director, Mr George Aspinall presents a silver salver to Mr Robert Baker to mark his retirement after thirty-two years employment with De La Rue.’
he began to read the article.
‘Latterly, Mr Baker was a senior designer at their factory at Team Valley near Gateshead and had been responsible for the design and printing of currency notes for a number of countries as well as various forms for the British Government.’

He read through the article, wondering if this was the same Robert Baker Strong had mentioned. Towards the end, he was quoted as a widower, looking forward to his retirement, enjoying golf and time with his two sons.

“Here, Phyllis,” Souter said turning round to face her, “Is that printer over there online?”

“Should be,” she said.

Page printed, he got up and replaced the microfiche on the shelf, collecting the printout on the way. As he left, he said his thanks and goodbye to Phyllis, unable to resist one last glance at her hair.

46

Now casually dressed in jeans, tee shirt and a jacket, Lyudmyla sat in the front passenger seat alongside Stainmore and guided her to the house where the girls lodged. Devoid of the heavy make-up, she looked healthier, more wholesome somehow, Stainmore thought. Initially, she had seemed suspicious that her two friends were driven away separately.

“It’s just routine,” Stainmore told her. “We need to take statements and establish your identities and status.”

“They are frightened,” Lyudmyla said. Her accent was pronounced but her command of English seemed good. “They have a lot to lose.”

Stainmore was puzzled. “But not you?”

“I have no family back home.” The girl took out a packet of cigarettes. “Can I?” she asked.

Stainmore preferred not to have smokers in the car but considered leniency may help build a rapport in this instance. “No, it’s okay,” she said, and dropped the passenger window a touch.

Lyudmyla took out a cigarette, lit up, then exhaled sharply. “My mother, she died when I was ten. My father, he drank himself to death last year. Turn here, by these shops.”

Stainmore followed the instructions. “No brothers or sisters?”

Another deep draw on the cigarette. “I had a baby sister but she die after a few days.”

“Sorry about that.” Stainmore glanced across but the girl was nervously looking out of the window. “What about your two friends, Nadia and Katerina?”

“They not really friends. I only meet them here in Leeds. Back home, they both have families. Next turn here.”

Stainmore indicated left and made the turn into Luxor Grove off the Harehills Road. It was even more run down than the street where Sweet Sensations was situated. Several of the three-storey houses were boarded up but, unlike Chapeltown, there were no signs of any reinvigoration.

“It’s this one here,” Lyudmyla said, pointing to the right, “the one with the brown door.”

When they pulled up, Lyudmyla explained that she didn’t have a key to get in.

Stainmore looked hard at the Lithuanian girl. “Why only tell me now?”

Lyudmyla smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I have a way in at the back that Szymanski not know.”

“If this is some kind of try on …”

The girl turned to face Stainmore, looking serious. “There is a small road at the back. We can go round the next corner and park.”

Stainmore took a breath then set off as directed. She was paying attention to the girl. Perhaps she should have been more aware of her surroundings. The dark blue Mondeo parked on the corner with two men inside went unnoticed.

Stainmore suddenly felt vulnerable. She was on her own with a young woman who, despite what she said, may have something to lose, but more importantly, nothing to be gained by helping the police. She would have preferred to have been in the company of a colleague but it was too late for that.

The girl opened the car door and Stainmore went to do the same.

“Please, give me two minutes,” Lyudmyla said. “I can get in through the basement, then I open the door for you.”

Stainmore studied her for a few seconds then nodded. “I’m trusting you,” she said.

Inside the Mondeo, a digital camera fired off a colonnade of shots recording the scene. A telephone number was dialled on a mobile and Stainmore’s car, description and registration number related.

She watched as Lyudmyla walked down the narrow street and turned in through a gate on the right. Six stone steps led up to a rear door but the girl disappeared around the far side of them.

Stainmore got out of the car, locked it and began to follow. She began to panic when she couldn’t see the girl and hurried her pace. As she approached the gate, the door at the top of the steps opened and Lyudmyla’s head peered out. Stainmore’s feeling of panic slowly subsided. The girl waved her hand quickly to beckon her inside.

“I not sure who keeps watch on this place,” Lyudmyla said, closing the door behind them. She led Stainmore up the creaking staircase to a first floor room facing Luxor Grove itself. “This is mine,” she said, sitting down on the made single bed.

“Is there a bathroom here?” Stainmore asked.

“Just outside there,” the girl said, waving an arm towards the door. “Why, you want to go?”

Stainmore chuckled. “No, it’s just you have black streaks on your face, you might want to wash them off.”

“Sorry, it is very dirty in the basement. I check.”

While the girl freshened up, Stainmore looked around the room. It seemed very tidy. Apart from a single wardrobe in one corner, there was a small table and two chairs by the window. Stainmore sat on one of them.

The girl returned. “Better?” she asked.

“Yes.” Stainmore nodded. “Lyudmyla, I need to show you some photographs. Could you take a look for me, please?”

The girl sat down opposite the detective, nervously playing with her hands.

Stainmore held out a photo to her.

Lyudmyla recognised the subject immediately. “This is my friend, Helena,” she said. “Is she in some sort of trouble? I not see her for some time.” Her expression told Stainmore that she could instantly tell there was something wrong. “What has happened?” she implored.

“Why do you think something has?”

“She was coming to see me, two weeks ago, but she didn’t come. It was the first time she doesn’t come. Also, she stopped working at Sensations,” adding quickly, “as reception. She not do massages.”

“When was the last time you actually saw Helena?”

Lyudmyla thought for a moment. “Two weeks last Tuesday. He bring her in to work.”

“Who?”

“Szymanski. They used to be … you know, friends.”

“Used to be?”

“Yes. But that last night. The big man come. Stan the Man, they call him.”

“Is this who you’re talking about?” Stainmore produced a photo of Mirczack and handed it to her.

Lyudmyla seemed to shudder, looked away and gave it back straight away. “Yes,” she said. “He horrible man. Szymanski, he frightened of him too.”

“So this man Mirczack, he is the top boss? The owner?”

“I think so.”

“And what happened that last time you saw her?”

“Mirczack, he take Helena and Szymanski into Room 2, the spare massage room. I hear some shouting. Then it goes quiet.”

“If they were shouting, could you hear what was said?”

“Not really. The only one shouting was Mirczack. He said something like, ‘I told you before … but you still not listen.’ Something like that.”

“And what happened afterwards?”

Lyudmyla took the pack cigarettes from her jacket pocket, shook one free and lit it. Blowing the smoke out, she finally answered. “Mirczack, he storms out. I know he’s not pleased.”

“And Helena and Szymanski?”

“When they come out, they’re very quiet. There’s you know … an atmosphere, yes?”

Stainmore nodded. “But you don’t know what Mirczack was annoyed about?”

“No.” Lyudmyla drew on her cigarette. “Then Szymanski leave and Helena goes on reception. I try to ask her what is going on but she says it is nothing.”

“When did Szymanski come back?”

“About three hours.”

“But she did arrange to see you on the following Thursday?”

“She said she would call round here.”

“But she never turned up?”

“No … well … I don’t know. They take us to Sensations that night. It was supposed to be our night off but Szymanski tell us we have to work.” Lyudmyla looked out the window, gazing over the rooftops opposite. “We miss her. She helps the girls here. When we are here, we are not allowed out but she come and bring cigarettes for us, some food items we cannot get.”

“Let me get this straight, you’re saying that you girls are left locked in here when you’re not working at the parlours?”

“Well, yes, unless he organises private parties.”

Stainmore was shocked. “Lyudmyla, are you prepared to make a statement covering what you’ve just told me?”

“I worry for the others. Me, I not too bothered, I will claim asylum but the others, they have families back in their home country. Police there cannot protect them. Mostly they are corrupt too.”

Stainmore didn’t respond immediately, taking a few seconds to absorb all she’d been told. Finally, she said, “Can I see the other rooms?”

“Sure.”

On the floor they were on, there was a small kitchen with some dirty crockery and cutlery awaiting washing up. A smell emanated from the bin where the remains of take-away meals had been discarded. There was also a bathroom, with a bath and shower over, toilet and wash hand basin. On the second floor, were Nadia’s and Katerina’s rooms. Both were unlocked and very much like Lyudmyla’s but some underwear was scattered around Nadia’s while Katerina’s had washed clothes drying on the backs of the two chairs and off the table. There appeared to be no personal photographs or other items you would normally associate with girls of that age living in a foreign land.

“You mentioned a basement – and the ground floor. What happens there?” Stainmore asked.

“I show you.” Lyudmyla led the way back down to the ground floor.

“Here, there is another bathroom.” She opened a door to a room similar to the one on the first floor. The door opposite she threw open to reveal a smaller kitchen which was clean, neat and tidy. “We are not allowed to use this.” The girl pointed to a door to the left of the front door and said, “That is a spare room for another girl, but we don’t have at the moment.”

Stainmore opened the door to reveal a small room with a bed with a bare mattress, an old wardrobe and an easy chair in the corner. She turned around and walked towards the door opposite. “And this one?” she asked, turning the handle but finding it locked.

“This is the room where they sometimes bring men for parties. It is always kept locked. In the basement there is another room but I have not seen inside.”

“These ‘parties’ you talk about, have you been involved?”

Lyudmyla looked away.

“Look, I only want to help you. If you want to apply for asylum, I’ll do what I can to assist you.”

When the girl looked back, there were tears running down her cheeks. “Twice,” she said.

“Who brings these men for the parties?”

“Him. Stan the Man.”

Stainmore couldn’t help herself. She put her arms around Lyudmyla and gave her a hug. “You’ve been very brave,” she said. “I think we’ll go back to Wakefield now – to the station and see what we can do to help you.”

The girl nodded. “I have to leave by the same way I got in. I meet you back in the car.”

Again, Stainmore had to trust her but from what she’d been told in the house, she felt more confident. Once outside the door, she heard it being locked from the inside, then footsteps. On her way back to the car, she considered there had been enough revelations for now. She had held back the photo of Chris Baker. Once they got to Wood Street, she’d open up that line of enquiry.

The blue Mondeo was a flurry of activity once more as a camera recorded Stainmore returning to her car. Just as she reached to put the key in the lock, behind and to her left, a car alarm announced its presence. She turned to see two youths run off down the street, away from an old brown Rover, the hazard warning lights flashing. “Little shits,” she murmured to herself, before turning back to unlock her own pool car. As she did so, her eye caught the blue Mondeo with two men inside, attempting to look inconspicuous. In the twenty seconds it took Lyudmyla to join her, she angled the overtaking mirror to focus on the car and discreetly made a note of the number. She’d check it out when she got to the station. Finally, Stainmore saw the tell-tale glint of a camera lens as Lyudmyla got back into the passenger seat beside her. She drove off, checking in the rear view mirror that she wasn’t being followed.

47

Whilst Stainmore took Lyudmyla to the lodging house, Strong drove Szymanski, handcuffed to Darby, back to Wood Street. Ormerod followed close behind with Stella and the two Lithuanian girls. It was risky but with the resources they had available it was the best solution he could come up with. He left Szymanski in Interview Room 2 alongside a uniformed constable, and took the opportunity to catch up with Luke Ormerod.

On the first floor corridor, Ormerod was coming out of the soft interview room when Strong spotted him.

“How was it on the journey?” Strong asked.

“The receptionist didn’t say much. She sat in the front. The two girls in the back exchanged a few words on the way, all in a foreign tongue. Seemed a bit frightened, to be honest, guv,” Ormerod said.