Scott Andrews - School's Out Forever

“You have the medicine?” asked the giant.

Kate held up her bag. He seemed content. He handed James a clipboard and a large manila envelope. Her brother took it without question.

“Come on,” he said to Kate, and led her back outside to a set of stairs that led up to the portacabin above. A young man stood outside the door, on guard. He unlocked the door as they ascended and ushered them inside. Kate heard the door lock again once they were in.

The small room held eight women and girls. All were sitting on the floor, crowded around a gas heater, warming their hands. They wore simple, functional clothes and had obviously not washed in days. There was a pungent smell of BO.

“Hello ladies,” said James, smiling. Kate was disturbed at how easily he slipped into this role. She wondered how many times he had done this before. “If I can please have your passports and travel documents.”

One of the women, the oldest of the bunch, maybe twenty or so, Kate thought, translated James’ request to the others, and they each reached into their pockets and produced their passports. Kate thought the meekness with which they did this spoke volumes. These girls were scared. They hadn’t admitted it to themselves yet, but they knew, deep down, that something had gone wrong, that they had been fooled, that something awful was about to happen to them.

James collected the passports and visas cheerfully, placing them in the manila envelope. He turned to Kate as he did so. “Best get on with it, Kit,” he said.

Kate crouched down and opened her bag. Inside were the syringe needles and ampoules that she had stolen from the hospital. Vitamin shots, wide spectrum antibiotics and, as ordered, mild sedatives. She told the girls to roll up their sleeves. Again the oldest one translated.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Nothing to worry about,” Kate lied, feeling a tiny part of her die as she did so. “Just vitamins and stuff. Something to give you a boost. You’ve had a long trip in that lorry.”

The woman was suspicious but there had been that faint air of resignation to her question which betrayed her powerlessness. Kate gave each of the trafficked women a shot.

While she did this James got each woman to stand up as he examined them, scanned a list of outstanding requirements on the clipboard, and decided which of the various distribution points they would be transferred to. The skinny one with the blonde hair was pretty enough for the high rollers, so she’d go to London. The three chubby ones were disposable but functional, they could go to Manchester. There was a special request for a young girl for extraordinary duties. James picked out the redhead, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, for this role.

Kate felt sick as she watched him do this.

James tried to present a cheery front as he consigned these women to their various fates. He knew what he was doing; choosing which ones would be raped, which would be murdered, which would vanish into the cellars, and which in the penthouses. But he didn’t want them to know what was going on, so he smiled and joked, even though he knew most of them didn’t understand what he was saying.

When the allocation was complete, and the injections had all been administered, James told them it was time for sleep because they would be collected early in the morning. He turned off the light as he left them to snuggle together for warmth on the floor, under ragged duvets.

Kate and he went back downstairs, handed the clipboard to the giant, and waited as he studied it. Eventually, he nodded.

“Good,” he said. Then he allocated each of the four men a girl or two to transport. James was also given an assignment, driving to Manchester. Kate was dismissed.

The men left and went up the stairs to collect their by now unconscious cargo. James hung back, drinking coffee with the giant.

“I thought you were driving one of them?” she asked.

James stared at his feet, unable to meet her gaze.

“I am,” he said. “But they’ll… they’ll be a while.”

The giant laughed. “This is not real man. Not like girls.” He laughed again, as if this was the funniest thing in the whole wide world.

Kate wanted to grind broken glass into his face.

“Can I go?” she asked.

The giant nodded. “Get more medicine. More girls next week,” he said, and he waved her aside, dismissing her.

Kate stepped out into the night and walked steadily and carefully until she turned a corner and was out of sight. Then she placed her hands on her knees, bent double, and vomited until there was nothing left to come up.

She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, stood upright, and walked out of the yard in search of a taxi.

“YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T have gone to all this trouble,” said Cooper, with his mouth full. Kate laughed.

“If my Gran knew I was playing host to a Detective Inspector and not feeding him, she’d have a heart attack. She feeds everyone who ever knocks on her door. Doctor, postman, Jehovah’s Witness, she doesn’t care. Even if I call her and say I’m stopping by after dinner at a fancy restaurant she opens the door and says ‘ooh love, you’re looking a little peaky, I’ve done your favourite, corned beef pie!’ And she’ll sit there and watch me eat it, no matter how full of Sunday lunch or curry I am.”

“And you’ve inherited her compulsion?”

“It what we do oop North, DI Cooper. Just because you Southerners think hospitality begins and ends with a twist of lime in a G and T, doesn’t mean we’re so stingy.”

“Well this pasta is great, thank you. I’m not sure what my boss would say. He might accuse me of taking bribes.”

“It’s not that good.”

“I’m a copper, Miss Booker…”

“Kate, please.”

“I live on pies, chips and coffee, Kate. You may not believe me, but I used to be lean and toned. It’s only since I joined the force that I’ve got so flabby.”

Kate didn’t think he was flabby. Fancies himself, she thought again, but not unkindly. Fishing for compliments.

“What did you do before?”

“I was in the army.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you as the soldier type. What were you, admin or engineer?”

Cooper hesitated. “Not exactly.”

“Man of mystery, huh.”

“Something like that.”

He finished his bowl of pasta and swilled it down with a gulp of lager. Kate collected their crockery and put the kettle on. Cooper browsed her bookcases while she made coffee. Once he’d taken it, he sat down, the informal air almost, but not entirely, banished. She sat opposite him.

“You gave the girls the injections?” he asked.

Kate nodded.

“How many?”

“Eight. Three for Manchester, two each for London and Birmingham, one for Cardiff.”

“Good. We’ll track them to their destinations.”

“And then do nothing because you’re waiting for authorisation.” The bitterness in her voice was hard to disguise.

“It won’t be long now, I promise.” He paused and Kate could tell he was considering whether to tell her something. He put down his cutlery and leaned forward across the table intently. “We’re tracking a lorry full of girls at the moment. The Ukrainians, for once, actually tipped us off when it left. So far we’ve managed to keep track of it all the way to Dusseldorf. If we don’t lose it before it gets here, we should have the whole trail mapped out clearly. Then we can wrap it all up in one fell swoop.”

“That’s brilliant!” said Kate. Cooper looked down at the table.

“But?” she asked, dreading his answer.

“They’ve decided the south coast ports are getting too dangerous. We think they’re coming in via Grimsby and straight to Manchester.”