Robin's Way 07

I was shaken by what I had seen.

Only a few days earlier I had been told by one of the working girls that the traffickers had a "mole" in the police force. My thoughts had been focussed on the "Albanians," but thinking back, that was because Dimitri had said they were the ones responsible for the women whom I had saved from the sea. And yet, had not every one of those ended up with Dimitri's outfit? Then I remembered how keen Elena had been to know if I could identify the two traffickers who had escaped from the beach. The inevitable question posed itself? Was I being played? And then there was the "coincidence" of Darnya and Elena both coming onto me.

I was not a great believer in coincidences. If, and of course it was still "if," the women were being trafficked by Dimitri's organisation, then most things would slot into place. He would want to know whether I could identify his men, and who better to get that out of me than a policewoman with whom I was friendly? If she could get more than "friendly," it would help him find out what else I knew, especially if Darnya's offer had been designed for the same purpose.

I felt myself shaking as I got to the house; and it was not the cool night air.

I had a restless night. I could be wrong. Elena had been kissing Dimitri in that alley, that was undeniable. But the meaning of it? Well that was open to interpretation. Because of my current preoccupations, I had given the encounter a set of meanings which fitted together; but was I being too suspicious?

I tried to attach other meanings. Perhaps she was "undercover?" I had been told by Jane that I would be "contacted" by someone, could that person be Elena herself? I had never mentioned Elena to Jane, so there was no reason she would have thought that I would already have known the person.

The morning caught me by surprise - the inevitable result of a disturbed sleep. Pondering it all over breakfast brought no ideas.

I did my morning prayer, with the usual sparse attendance, but just as I was putting my clericals away, someone came into the Church. I looked, then broke into something between an amazed look and a smile - it was Irina!

"Robin, they said I would find you here. How are you?"

I had last seen her two days after Ryan Surtees had been arrested, and that memory brought back with it the days we had spent together.

"Irina, how wonderful!"

"Were you not warned?"

So, I thought, that was what Jane had meant. The Ukrainians had sent Irina.

"I was just told someone would be coming, but not who."

"Well, I hope I don't come as an unpleasant surprise?"

I assured her she did not, and asked how I could help, suggesting we grabbed a coffee.

We went to the Sweet Peace on the sea front, which gave us a good view, and over cappuccinos and pain au chocolat, we got down to business.

"We know that the Russians have a business in trafficking Ukrainian girls taken from their homes. Some of the Russian commanders have arrangements with criminal gangs to do that. Mind you, you could characterise the Russian Government itself as a criminal gang. We think that they are going to use existing networks, and that your east coast here is going to be the preferred landing ground. There is too much activity in the Channel, whereas out here, as long as the boats don't capsize, and a glamorous vicar does not rescue people, no one really notices."

"But the women we picked up were not forced."

"No, they would not have been, but we think it was a dry run for the real thing. That would be why they have been trying to find out whether you could identify the men concerned."

That made sense, but then I thought to myself, how on earth did Irina know that? So I asked her.

"We have been monitoring their texts and calls, and it is clear that they were agitated. You may have been asked by someone called Darnya."

"I was. But I am told by sources close to the Home Office that they have a mole in the police helping them."

"Yes, I was told that. Do you have any idea who it might be? Has anyone from the police been asking the same question as Darnya?"

Would it be too awful of me to mention Elena? That would be sure to get her into trouble with the authorities, and all I had to go on was that I had seen her. But then I had seen her kissing Dimitri. It was easy to accuse myself of jumping to conclusions. So I decided to jump to none and simply tell the truth.

"Yes, my old friend from school, Elena, asked me."

"She's an old friend? You can trust her?"

"I think so, or rather, I thought so until last night."

I told Irina what I had seen.

"She was kissing him?"

"She was."

"That's not good," she said, stating the obvious in an attempt not to offend me. "Do you think she is the, how do you call it in English, the mole?"

"She could be, but I know Elena and find that hard to believe."

"We shall perhaps sit on that and see."

"So," I asked, "what are your plans?"

"Oh well, I am not here officially until later, and then I shall be going to see Dimitri!"

I looked like I felt, shocked, and I could see from her face that she had caught my reaction.

"It is called 'undercover,' darling. For most of the past six months I have been working with the Ukrainian end of this operation as a minder for the girls."

"You mean you are a Madam?"

"I suppose so. They are worried about the welfare of the girls, and about the slow erosion of numbers, for which they blame you."

"Well," I said, somewhat indignantly, "it was Dimitri who asked me to get involved."

"Yes, but I think they may have underestimated you, darling. Back home, where all the priests are men, neither an Orthodox nor a Catholic priest would have reacted to them as you did. I think they were expecting you to condemn them, not reassure and rescue them."

I treasured that comment, and indeed, passed it back to Jane. It was what I needed at some level, a justification for my work. Yet, as I reflected later, how strange that one should need justification for what was, in fact, a pastoral ministry. Then it hit me, and hard.

The need to justify came from a false paradigm.

I was seeing my work through the wrong lens - that of the world. There it was simple enough. Sex workers were victims. They were to be acted upon by their saviours, in a way different from the way their "clients" acted upon them, but nonetheless, they were to be denied agency.

My own instincts had, I realised, led by a more pastoral route. The absolution of their sins was to help them. By listening, by not judging, by not lecturing or telling them what they should and should not do, I had helped them to the only way that would lead them from the dark place they were in - their own agency. God had reached out to them through my voice and some of them had heard him. I was humbled.

I smiled and thanked Irina.

"When you are working there, I will need to see you too."

"I was rather hoping you'd say that, as that is precisely where I will be able to pass on information to the authorities - the confessional is sacred even to the Dimitris of this world. But what about Elena?"

"Can we, for now, go with my instincts? I don't think she is the source, but I will try to find out more."

"I'll go with that," Irina said. "But now, I'd better make myself scarce, don't want to be seen with you just yet."

At that, she squeezed my hand:

"I loved our time together, and if you are ever at a loose end..."

She let the words lie.

What, I wondered, was this? Was I giving off some strange lesbian aura telling attractive women I was available? I should, I knew, have told her about Jane, but some instinct said not to. It was not cowardice, just something which said not to.

I spent the rest of the morning catching up with emails, when I was not pondering what I was doing here. My mood was lifted by what Irina had told me. I emailed Jane to tell her.

I went to the Retreat for lunch, where Miriam told me that one of the "girls" as she called them, wanted to see me. I said I'd grab a sandwich in my office and asked her to get the woman concerned.

I was just about to unwrap my sandwich when a small, light-haired woman ventured, shyly, through the door. My first impression was that she seemed very young, with an almost elfin beauty. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail, and the red and white check mini dress she was wearing, added to my first impression.

"Is okay to talk now, Miss?"

"It is, please call me Robin. Can I get you something to eat or drink?"

"Is okay, Miss, sorry, Robin. I am Olena, thank you for seeing me."

"How can I help?"

She was nervous. I remembered her voice from the confessional. I felt for her. I asked her to tell me what was bothering her.

"I am sorry, Miss that I still am being whore, but these men, they have my passport and if I don't, they could hurt my sister back home, and my mother. But it makes me sad Miss, and now I hear something which is bad, and I need to tell."

"You are taking a risk, Olena, I'd be happy to wait till confession on Thursday."

"It not keep Miss. I overhear one of the men telling Darnya to be ready for new girls tomorrow. He say they are from Russia - our women captured by Russians and sold. Can you help Miss?"

No wonder Olena was shaking.

This mapped onto what Irina was saying, but gave us both a day and a probable place.

"These women, Olena, you're sure they are being brought to Dimitri's?"

"Yes, Miss, that is what I heard, is why I tell you. They will be moved on once they are here, so is not time to wait."

"Thank you, Olena, thank you. Do you think anyone saw you come here?"

"I say I come to ask for help with medicine, Miss, I on my period, I say so, and men, you know what they like when you talk about such matters."

I could imagine. It was very brave of her, and I did say that if she was worried, I could make arrangements to keep her safe, but she declined, saying that if she vanished, her family would suffer.

I arranged for Miriam to provide her with the requisites to back up her story, and then phoned the emergency number I had been given with for the Border Force to tell them what I had been told.

The next day my nerves were on edge,

I had just finished evening prayer and was taking my vestments off when my phone buzzed; it was Elena.

"Robin, I will be in Felixstowe later, would you be free for a drink, or perhaps a bit to eat?"

As I was, I said so, agreeing to meet her at the Green Man at seven.

I had not heard from Elena all week, and now, when I had been told that more women were about to be landed here, Elena wanted to see me. Of course, as she was with the Border Force, she would be coming, so perhaps I was being paranoid?

I put on my striped cotton top and a mid-calf length skirt with heels, throwing on my beret at the last minute. Smart, I thought, but not too obviously sexy. Was I wanting to attract Elena, or did I just want to challenge the myth that women clergy were dowdy figures? A bit of both, I thought to myself as the chill night air embraced me.

Elena was already in the pub, so I shared a glass of wine with her, and we ordered supper.

Once we were seated, she asked how I was, and then, after we had run through the pleasantries, she told me:

"I'm here on operational business. I'll be at the police house tonight, and I can't be later because I'm up early."

"Oh," I said, trying to sound surprised. "Do you know why?"

"No, the top brass has been very cagey about this one. Do you have any idea?"

"I'm afraid my top brass is as tight-lipped as yours."

"Okay, well I'll let you know when I know. How are your girls? Saved any brands from the burning?"

"One or two," I said. "When I saw Dimitri, he seemed to accept that as collateral damage."

"I'd have thought you'd want to save them all," Elena spoke with some earnestness.

"God saves," I replied, smiling, "all I do is plant the seed. Where it sprouts is up to him."

"So, you have met Dimitri?" Elena asked, picking up the cue I had rather hoped she might. "What's he like?"

"Have you not met him?" I asked, feigning an innocence that really ought to have earned me a nomination for best actress in a supporting role.

"No, I have yet to have the pleasure. What did you think of him?"

I told her what I thought, namely that he seemed better than the alternatives, but that he was still a bad man in a bad trade.

"Some girls like bad boys," Elena said, which seemed to me both apropos and a bit daring. Was she trying to communicate to me? There was something in her look and about the way she had blurted that out which made me wonder. So I went there.

"Do you?"

"I've dated a few, Robin, we can't all be good girls like you."

There was something in that look, but I let it go, wanting to see where this might yet go.

"Goes with the territory," I joked lightly.

"Have you really never, Robin? You're an attractive woman."

"If you mean been with a man, then no, but thanks for the compliment."

"You don't know what you're missing. Strap ons are one thing, but a cock pulsing in you is quite another!"

I felt myself colouring.

"I shall take your word for that, darling," I said, trying to make light of it.

She grinned.

"Sorry, I should not have said that."

She shouldn't, of course, but being me, I told her not to worry. Quite why I was incapable of just saying that she should indeed not have said it, I never understood. It was, I think, something to do with not wanting to offend anyone.

"One for the road?" She asked.

"Sure," I replied.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Robin. I thought you might be bi, like me."

"I've never been with a man, so to be honest I just don't know."

At that point her phone buzzed.

"I have to take this," she said.

Her face took on a sense of alarm as she talked. When it ended, she turned to me.

"Come with me, Robin, something's happened."

"What?" I said, grabbing our coats.

"There's a woman been found dead not far from one of your hostels. They don't know who it is, you might."

My heart sank.

It took us only minutes to get to the scene. I looked down. It was Olena. A sob broke from my lips. I muttered a quick prayer and made the sign of the Cross.

"You know her?" Macduff looked at me.

"She is called Olena, I saw her earlier today on a personal matter."

"Can you tell us anything that might help?"

"Yes, but can we do it back at the station?"

"Of course," he said, sympathetically. "Elena, can you stay here with the regular police and go the hospital with the corpse. I'd like to know the time of death as soon as possible."

Elena looked at him, then me.

"I'd rather stay with you two."

"Elena, please, I need someone with her."

Reluctantly, she agreed.

Back at the station I told him, and him alone what Olena had told me.

"That," he said, "would explain a lot."

"What?" I asked.

"She was dumped there after they killed her, but there are signs she was tortured."

"So," I said, "that means that they know that you know about the trafficked women?"

"Yes, but how did they know she had been to see you?"

"It would have been easy enough for someone who saw her to have reported back to men controlling the women, and I'd guess they had put one and one together."

Macduff looked at me quizzically.

"There's something you're not telling me, Miss Topham. I've been doing this job long enough to tell. Look, if it was told to you in the confidence of the confessional, I understand, but you've seen the lengths these people will go to; do you really want to hinder our investigation?"

"Sergeant Macduff, if it was something from the confessional, there is no way I would tell you what it was, but no, this is something more circumstantial."

"It wouldn't be something to do with Elena, would it?"

"What makes you say that? I asked, playing for time, and not a little surprised.

"The way you looked at her when you identified the body. Come on, what is it?"

"It may be nothing," I began.

"Let me decide that, Miss Topham."

"Well, the other evening when Elena and I dined, she was called away. On my way home I saw her kissing a man."

"Who?" He asked, directly.

"It looked like Dimitri," I replied.

"Looked like?"

"Yes, I could not be absolutely sure, but it did look like him."

"I see," he said.

The silence that settled was an oppressive one.

"And you did not think of telling us?"

"I did not know what to think," I answered, suddenly only too aware of how inadequate an answer that was.

"Well," Macduff said, changing his tone, "I suppose that to a virginal vicar there may be a perfectly innocent explanation, but I am damned if I can think of one! Robin, what the hell were you thinking?"

Not liking his tone, I responded with some heat.

"I was thinking that you and others might immediately constitute yourself a hanging jury," I replied.

"Oh come on!" He said, his anger rising.

"One of my officers is seen snogging one of the leaders of the criminal gang, and you think that there could be an innocent explanation?"

"I didn't say that" I responded, hotly, "I said that you might immediately jump to the conclusion that Elena was not to be trusted."

"Well what the fuck else am I to think?"

I could see he was losing his temper. I have never been any good with raised voices and bad tempers, but I was not going to be bullied, either.

"That," I said sharply, "would require an ability to reflect, which is what I was trying to do. Apart from anything else, if she is involved with them, surely you want to be able to use that to your advantage, something that would be blown by you reporting her!"

Macduff stopped. I could see he was making an effort.

"Sorry, sorry, I should not have sworn, and maybe, just maybe you have a point. Did Elena know the Olena came to see you?"

"No, as far as I knew, no one did."

"Okay, okay, look, you're right, if she is involved, best we keep an eye on her. Would you help me with that?"

"You can trust your virginal vicar to do that?" I joked.

"Okay, sure, look, can we start again?"

"Always," I laughed, "and I'm not saying that she is not involved, just that we can't be sure."

"Well, we can be sure that this lot will stop at nothing."

"Look," I said, "I know you think I am naive, and you may be right, but if we start quarrelling, we shall get nowhere, agreed."

"Robin, if I can call you that, I'm sorry, I was an ass. Let's cooperate. We are still assuming there will be some sort of landing tomorrow, would be up for an early morning swim? I rather enjoyed the photos of your last one."

"I see," I smiled at him, "virginal vicars in wet teeshirts are your thing then?"

"They could be, Macduff smiled.