Still Helen maintained her silence.She knew Eloise meant well, but every word was torture.
‘I told the police all about it.Hopefully they’ll catch thebastards.They’ve already been and gone actually … so I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with these?’
Now, finally, Helen raised her head, the effort making her feel faint.Eloise was holding out Viyan’s meagre possessions.Staring at them, Helen suddenly felt overwhelmed with sadness and regret.What on earth had happened?How had those thugs found Viyan?Helen had one dark, nagging suspicion, but surely that was too far-fetched to be true?Pushing these thoughts away, she accepted the passport and sketching pad, nodding briefly at the concerned manager, before heading on her way without a word.
Half an hour later, she was back in the underground car park at her apartment block, cursing once more that the lift was not working, as she shuffled towards the towering stairwell.Her legs felt weak, her head light and it was an effort to keep going, all energy, all resolve, having deserted her.She kept her head down, her eyes fixed ahead, but the stairs seemed to spiral ever upwards.As hard as she worked, she never seemed to be getting any closer to her flat.Eventually, however, she reached the familiar landing, crossing it breathlessly, before teasing open the door.
Gripping the wall, Helen propelled herself forward.Moving slowly, she made her way through the kitchen, tossing Viyan’s passport and pad onto the table.As she did so, the pad flipped open, revealing some sketches inside.Surprised, Helen seated herself carefully, leafing through its contents, amazed by what she was seeing.Viyan had clearly been busy before the fire, making copious notes regarding her time in captivity.There were names of the main players, names of her fellow workers, but also illustrations.Helen pored over her sketch of the farm where she’d been held, lost in the intricate details, before turning the page.Now she stopped in her tracks.For on this page, Viyan had drawn a picture of ‘Leyla’, the overseer of the horrific prisoncamp, the woman who’d made her life a living Hell for over two years.In an instant, everything fell into place, Helen’s dark suspicions all too prescient.
For this was a woman she recognized.A woman Helen hadmet.
Chapter 85
‘Stop what you’re doing and gather round.’
Leyla’s command echoed across the dusty yard, startling several workers.They visibly jumped, before swiftly abandoning their duties to hurry over, which brought a smile to Leyla’s blood-smeared face.Despite Viyan’s wicked behaviour, her blatant challenge to Leyla’s authority, her co-workers seemed as obedient and pliant as ever.If the treacherous Viyan had hoped to start a rebellion, she had surely failed.
‘Faster, faster, this is not an excuse for a break …’
Those closest to Leyla stepped up their pace, whilst beyond them, others emerged from the farmhouse, the accommodation block, driven in her direction by the angry shouts of Leyla’s associates.The workers were clearly alarmed by this unexpected summons, fearful that it might presage some unforeseen punishment or misfortune, looking at their mistress with trepidation.How pitiful they were – their spirits broken, their resolve crushed.They were little more than automatons, with no sense of agency, courage or self-respect.
How did people get like this?The answer was obvious.Weakness.Leyla had always despised those who couldn’t stand up for themselves, who let themselves be broken by life’s vicissitudes.Her parents had been weak, allowing themselves to be drivenfrom their homeland by the brutality of the Turkish authorities, only then to be exploited and abused in their adopted country, forced to clean toilets, sweep the streets, working for pennies whilst their employers grew rich.Growing up in Southampton, Leyla had watched them work themselves into an early grave, leaving her in loco parentis to her three younger brothers.That had beenanothersign of her parents’ weakness, a gross betrayal of their own flesh and blood, but as ever they’d blamed others for their misfortune, citing prejudice as the root cause of their misfortune.Her father had often said that their community was persecuted the world over and Leyla had taken that to heart, but not as an excuse for failure, more as an opportunity forgain.Having been born in the UK, Leyla knew how the system worked, how it functioned by perennially exploiting the weak and vulnerable.Using this knowledge and her ties to the Kurdish community back in Turkey, she’d grown strong, rich, powerful.She would not go meekly to an early grave as her parents had done and she would call no one master.Thanks to her ingenuity, cunning and ruthlessness,shewas the one in control.
The workers were now forming a circle around her.In other circumstances, this might have alarmed Leyla, but they would be no trouble today, the assembled drones kept in line by the iron bars and snub-nosed revolvers that her brothers used to instil fear.No, they would stand there, passive and blank, as Leyla showed them the price of disobedience.They would say nothing as one of their own was reduced to ashes, her tortured screams the only sound in this isolated yard.This was true weakness and Leyla despised them for it.
She, by contrast, would not waver.In normal circumstances, she would never let one of her workers be harmed, but this was different.Viyan’s gross disrespect, her attempt to destroy her highly successful enterprise, could not go unpunished.Leylahad offered Viyan the hand of friendship, the chance of a new life in a new country, but the ungrateful bitch had spat in her face.She’d turned on the one person who’d tried to lift her out of poverty and disgrace and now she would pay for it.In this camp, in Leyla’s universe, the price of ingratitude was death.
Chapter 86
‘Are you out of your mind, Helen?’
It certainly felt that way, but there was no way she was going to let Christopher fob her off like that, so Helen pressed on:
‘I know it’s unorthodox, but there’s no other way.’
‘Unorthodox?’Christopher stammered.‘It’sillegal.I can’t possibly action a search without the proper paperwork.You don’t even have a warrant.’
Her ex-lover had looked shocked when she’d turned up un-announced at his office, then aghast when she’d made her request.It had been an impulsive decision to come here, but Helen felt in her bones that there was only one way to reveal who Harika Guli really was.She had to follow the money.
‘I’m convinced that this supposed charity worker isactuallya human trafficker.God alone knows how many poor souls she’s smuggled into this country.They are being kept in the most inhuman conditions, forced to work for a pittance—’
‘I get all that,’ Christopher interrupted firmly.‘And Ibelieveyou, Helen.But I can’t do anything unless the police or the NCA ask me to.’
‘That’ll take days, when we have hours at the most.’
Even as she said the words, Helen’s heart sank, horrified by the thought of the retribution Viyan would face at the hands ofher cruel mistress.She would be tortured, perhaps even killed like her poor friend Selima, which is why Helen knew she had to fight, despite lacking either the strength or energy to do so.
‘If you do it now, if you do it quickly, I can be out of here before anyone notices.’
‘I’m sorry, Helen, but it’s out of the question.It’s more than my job’s worth.’
‘It’ll take five minutes.I just need to know who pays the rent, the bills, for the Kurdish Welfare Centre on Roehampton Road.My hunch is that it’s actually a front company, set up purely to facilitate human trafficking.’
Christopher ran his hand through his hair in exasperation, staring at Helen as if she was speaking a foreign language.It was a look she was getting used to.
‘I don’t know what to say to you, Helen.I just can’t do it.I understand that you’re concerned about Viyan, but you know full well that I can’t do what you’re asking, so unless you’re here to make my life difficult for me, to punish me in some way—’
‘This isn’t about you, you prick,’ Helen interrupted.‘It’s about saving lives.It’s about doing what’s right.’
