"Do you know where you are?" she says.
I slowly shake my head. I cannot be at Dacha Kustensky after all. Then it dawns! I am at the Summer House, on Drevikken! How on earth have I got here?
I say, "Is this the Summer House? At Drevikken?"
"What do you think?" asks Maria slowly, watching how I respond.
"Yes, that is where I think I am -- it's just -- I cannot think how I got here!"
"Where should you be?"
"At the Dacha," I reply.
"Where is that, the Dacha?" asks Maria.
Well : what a question. Where is the Dacha? Near Moscow, but I know that is not the answer she wants. I am about to say more when the thought comes to me that I have not been given permission to speak about the Dacha and about what I do there and about the Family there. If I have not been given permission to speak, well there is nothing I can say.
"I am sorry, I cannot tell you."
"Why not?"
"I have not been given permission."
"Do you need permission?"
"Of course! I am only a ..." I stop. I am telling them about what I do. I have not been given permission to speak to people outside the family about what I do. "I am afraid I cannot tell you."
"I see," says Maria, but the look in her face tells a different story. She begins again: "Tell me once more who you are."
I try a slightly different name, which I find somewhere in memory, like finding clothes you have not worn for a long time. Familiar and unfamiliar, both at once. "Jennifer Karin McEwan," I say.
"Where do you live?"
I am really getting into the way of this now. I know the answer! "In England of course. In Warwick."
"Do you live alone?"
"No! I live with my husband, Joseph." I glance at Mummy. She looks so much happier mow -- relieved. Funny -- this must be another level of service. Learning how to please my parents and the man I used to live with, before I became slave to Gaspadeen and Gaspazha.
Without warning. I am engulfed with tiredness. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I yawn widely and say, "I am sorry. Can we talk again in the morning?"
Maria leans forwards and rubs my shoulder. She looks puzzled but her words are kind. "Of course," she says. "Sleep now little one!" Analysis
Officers Lindahl and Carlsson are sitting in the police car reviewing the statements they have collected. The time is now 01:30. Their orders are to keep watch on the Palmers cottage and to bring Jennifer and Joseph to Kungsholmen in the morning for the definitive interviews.
"Well, what did you think of all that?" asks Carlsson. "Voices in the harbour, large unidentifiable yachts, a woman who disappears in London swims ashore in Stockholm. How long do you think it would take, to swim from London to Stockholm? Less than nineteen months?"
Lindahl chuckles at Carlsson's summary of events. It's an astonishing story, no mistake about that. It invites scepticism but Lindahl has heard stranger tales. Fantasists would have concocted an even more unlikely story. The girl would have to appear from a flying saucer perhaps, or she would have dived from the King's very own yacht. Actually the King had been implicated in some racy and rather unsavoury events lately, so perhaps that isn't as unlikely as it seems? (10)
"Well," Lindahl says after some several seconds reflection: "well, there are things we can actually check. Kungsholmen can try to contact the British police to see if Jennifer McEwan really is a missing person and we can speak with the Harbour Control people. They should know about the movements of sea going boats and yachts yesterday ..." Body Art Interlude
Joe and I are walking back from swimming in the lake. The water was cold but in the morning air, I feel warm now. I am naked again. It is reassuring. I prefer nakedness. It means I have nothing to hide from anyone. I have not seen Joe naked in ever-so-long. There have been naked men - Andrei for example - but then I was at work. I was expected to perform on them. One way or another, to give pleasure. Sucking Andrei. Fucking Andrei. Pleasuring the others I was given to. Actually, now I come to think of it, there were not many. More girls than boys. Perhaps I am not quite ready for that level of service yet? Have I been sent back to Joe for some kind of higher level training? But in that case, he would have to be working for Gaspadeen and Gaspazha ...
It's too painful to think about this. I set it to one side and look at Joe. We walk slowly back along the jetty, towards the summer house. He is half a step in front of me and I see ... he is tattooed! All over his back ... well ... but Joseph was not marked anywhere and this man has a large dramatic tattoo all over his back and his cock! It has been ringed. Right through the meatus!
Perhaps this man is not Joseph at all? Then he turns to me. The familiar half smile and the way he raises his right eyebrow ... surely it must be him?
He says nothing but holds my hand. First one, then both.
"Are you really Joe?"
"What?"
"Izveneetye pazhalsta no vwee Eosef?" (11)
"I am sorry Jenny, what was that? You will have to speak English. You know my Swedish is not as good as it should be."
He slowly bows his head forward and kisses my wet scalp. Tender. Gentle.
"You are pierced and tattooed."
"Yes."
"But Joseph McEwan does not have any body art. I do not think he approves."
"I know. Perhaps he didn't but he does now. He was an idiot. So he tried to find out about the girl he had lost by doing some of the things she had done."
"Oh ... did you?"
"I went to see Ros Buchanan" (12)
"Who?'
"Ros Buchanan. She works with Jonathan. He tattooed you, Jenny. Don't you remember?"
There is anxiety and incomprehension in the man's voice. Yes: I remember Ros Buchanan. She is very pretty in a very up-front spikey sort of way. Suddenly I feel a sting of jealousy. She - Ros - has seen Joe naked. She has seen him with his kit off. Marked his skin. Handled his cock. My cock! But wait a moment - I do not have possessions any more. I am a slave. So why shouldn't she work on this man? After all, this man here, he is not mine, is he? But I do like his cock ring. It could do to be a bit thicker. Better aesthetics ... and his tattoo ... is wonderful.
"So what does it say?"
"What?"
"Your tattoo?"
"Oh, er ... well ... it was something Ros Buchanan put together to talk about ... I mean to signify ... I mean to draw out the story of me trying to find you."
"Trying to find me?"
"Yes."
"So how does it say that?"
"Well, there is a cross to say how much I love you and to say that I will go anywhere and do anything to find you."
"Oh ... what about the funny animals."
"They are called zoomorphs ... they represent the things I will need: wisdom, courage and faithfulness."
"Oh ..." and I snuggle close to this man, who will do any brave thing to find me. But he has not found me, I have been sent to him. By my new Owners. And the person who lives inside this body: Vyera or perhaps it is Jennifer now. Will he be able to find her?
As we climb back to the Summer House, I am in front of this heroic man and I glance back at him and my gaze falls down to his prick proudly sporting its ring. The cold of the water has shrivelled his flesh and the ring is even more prominent now. Brazen. I find my mouth beginning to water. It seems the slut has come with me. I begin to think about the ring. A heavier gauge. A bigger diameter. Larger. A nice thick leather lead clipped onto it. A lead in my hands. The man being led away by me, for me to play with. My mouth is watering much more and I have to swallow. A man to play with. All mine! Kungsholmen
Stockholm Police Headquarters occupies a large slab sided glass and concrete building in Kungsholmen. It looks more like an office block than a main police station. It fits the image of Sweden as a fresh, modern, forward- thinking country, where rules of society are understood and obeyed. The image is of somewhere that people pull together instead of going their own way; where crime is more likely to be an affliction to be remedied by therapy, rather than the evidence of some on-going battle between the forces of good and evil. The Stockholm Police however, know better than that. They are not distracted by cliches. They have their feet firmly on the ground ...
Jennifer is sitting on her own, in a small bright windowless room. She is facing a lady detective in a white polo shirt. There's a tape recorder and the detective's male colleague.
"Tell me your story", begins Anna Thomassen, the detective.
Jennifer draws breath ... and stops.
Tell her story? How can she? She is a slave and a slave must be loyal to her Owners. What can she say and remain loyal to them?
"Err ... well ... I am Jennifer McEwan."
"Mmmmm. Do you like Sweden?"
Jennifer smiles broadly. "Yes: very much. My mother is Swedish. I have been here lots and lots of times. We have relatives."
"Have you been staying with relatives recently?"
"Er ... no."
"When did you arrive?"
"Last we ..."
"Last week?"
"Yes."
"From UK?"
"Er ... no"
'Mmmm? You know that nowadays, the Immigration and Border people have to keep a check on foreigners coming into the country."
"Yes," agrees Jennifer, weakly. She looks down.
The detective notices the downward look. There is something significant this girl does not want to say about how she came to Sweden. The detective has read the Interpol notification about the disappearance of Jennifer McEwan. Now it seems, here she is. Reluctant to say how she came to be in Sweden in the first place. Like a little abscess, the crime has pushed up a swelling which the detective has found. She lifts her scalpel and draws the blade across the centre, to release the poison of wrong doing, but once lanced, will the abscess drain?
"You were going to tell me how you came to be here?"
Jennifer, half smiles, exhales, looks down and her eyes begin to water. How can she possible answer the question and stay loyal?
"I am sorry, I can't remember."
"Ah, well that is a shame because it is against the law for people to enter Sweden illegally. If you cannot tell me, I will have to arrest you. You will have to stay in custody here until you can remember."
Custody. Prison. Of course Jenny has been I prison for so many months now. What was it Neena explained to her? Explained between cane strokes given to reward her for trying to escape?
'Slaves remain in custody'
Did it matter if her custodians were the Swedish Authorities or her Owners?
Actually, she had entered the country properly. She had come as Vyera Anatol'yevna Kuznetsova, because that was who she is, but could she admit that to the police woman and stay loyal to her owners?
The detective is speaking again: "Perhaps I should give you some time to think things over. On your own. Here?"
From somewhere deep inside Jennifer's brain, a fact presents itself to her conscious mind. A fact which has quietly slumbered for so long now. It awakes and shambles into the light.
"Er .. do you need permission to come to Sweden if you are Swedish?"
"Pardon?"
"If you are a citizen of Sweden? Can you ever enter the country illegally? If this country is your home ..."
"If you are Swedish, Sweden is your home and you are always welcome."
"I am Swedish as well as English. I took out dual citizenship when I was twenty one!"
"Ah ..."
"So can I go back home now?"
"To Stockholm?"
"Yes."
"Karin" (the detective chooses Jennifer's second name, her Swedish name) "we are very anxious to know if a crime has been committed. It is the duty of citizens of Sweden to help the police to deal with criminals."
"I ... er ... I entered Sweden correctly and I know of no crime committed in Sweden."
"I see. So where is your Swedish passport?"
"Er ... I do not know."
"Lost?"
"Yes."
"Then you must apply for a new one."
"Yes."
"Karin: think carefully. There is a girl called Jennifer Karin McEwan who is also a British Citizen. She disappeared in London on Tuesday 10th November 2009. Her husband and parents were very worried about her. If you know what happened, you must tell me."
"Can I just go home now?"
"I will have to speak with you again. I also want you to speak to a colleague of mine and our doctor must see you."
"Yes. I understand."
"Then you may go but do not leave Stockholm without letting me know. Here is my card. If you do, I will have you found and arrested. Do you understand?"
J
ennifer rises from her seat. She is blushing and perspiring and her voice is unsteady. She has not told the truth as she knows it. The Detective Anna Thomassen knows it. Jennifer knows the detective knows it - but she is free to leave the building, after she has seen their doctor. She has been rescued by her Swedish citizenship. Her Owners are still safe. For now.
References:
1. The Duty Officer has been trained. Using someone's name is a good way to interrupt their flow and get your own chance to speak.
2. Alan Whicker. Legendary British TV reporter and man-of-the-world. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alan_Whicker
3. "Stockholm Police. Can I help you?"
4. Kungsholmen. The HQ of the Stockholm County Police. The County Police would handle 'routine' police work but if a crime fell into particular categories, such as people trafficking or involve crimes which cross international borders, the Swedish National Investigation Bureau will take over the case.
www.polisen.se
5. The conversation in Swedish:
'Hello'
'Hello'.
'Mr and Mrs Palmer?'
'Yes. That's us
'Did you ring the Police about your daughter?'
'Yes, we did. Come in. Come in - and this is Joseph. He is Jennifer's husband. He is Mr McEwan'
6. The Blau Porten Restaurant in Djugarden:
7. The Swedish National Investigation Bureau:
8. Jenny's conversation in Russian:
'Porstetye mnye pazhalsta, Gaspazha'. Forgive me please. Mistress
'Nyet, Menye zavoot Vyera Anatolyevna'. No, my name is Vyera Anatolyevna
'Menye zavoot Vyera Anatolyevna Kuznetsova'. I am Vyera Anatolyevna Kuznetsova
9. Jenny's conversation is Swedish:
'I am called Jenifer Karin McEwan'.
10. The King of Sweden has been keeping some bad company, wonderfully captured in a newspaper cartoon. The King is drawn as a playing card, the Joker. In his hands are other cards, face downwards. The caption reads, 'Time for cards on the table?' Basically: girls, gambling and unsavoury Balkan types.
11. 'Izveneetye pazhalsta no vwee Eosef? "Excuse me please, but are you Joseph?"
12. Ros Buchanan first appears in our earlier book Such Sweet Sorrow, Chapter 6, Ink Inc. & Chapter 15, Marked Man. 7. Some Unexpected Callers.
London and Stockholm. The day following Jennifer's Return Ett Telephone Samtal
At New Scotland Yard in London, the Headquarters of the Metropolitan Police, Chief Inspector Grantby, who has been part of the investigation into Jenny's disappearance from the start, picks up the phone, reacting to its insistent ring. He's only just got back to his desk. He'd hoped for a few minutes to get his life in order before the outside world demanded his attention once again. "Grantby?"
"Chief Inspector, There was a call for you this morning from the police in Stockholm."
"Stockholm?"
"An Inspector Thomassen rang to say someone called Jennifer McEwan has been found. She was a disappearance case in 2009 in London. They want you to call back."
Grantby furrows his brow. He remembers something of the case; mainly that they didn't get very far with it. It will be good if he can finally draw a line under it. "Can you get me the file?"
"It should be on your desk."
"Thanks, Alice."
Grantby thinks back as he rummages through the files on his desk. A young woman vanished in London. She came from ... where was it? ... somewhere in the Midlands ... Warwick! Suddenly the memory freshens up in his mind. That was the case where he thought someone in the security services was playing games. All the leads had been so very neatly closed off. There had been a report that the CIA were somehow involved with the girl. How did that work? Er ... was she the one who had been doing some psychological research at some peculiar adult playground in Essex -- or was it Suffolk? Maybe it was Suffolk ... The CIA had turned up and carted her off for interrogation.
By now Grantby is rather keen to re-read the details. He finds the file on his desk and thumbs through to find the summary of events:
Name: Jennifer Karin McEwan
Date of disappearance: 11 November 2009
Last Confirmed Sighting: Fitzroy Square W1
Approximate time: 2:30PM
Last possible sighting: New Cavendish Street W1
Risk classification: High:
- her absence was out of character
- she did not complete her intensions on the day
- no objective explanation for her disappearance
Other Information: - possible involvement of 'security services'
- her superior at work was a personal friend of a former KGB
agent.
When he read the last line, Grantby chuckles. Sometimes you just could not make this stuff up!
Grantby picks up his 'phone and speaks to his secretary once more: "Can you try to get me Bjorn Borg or whoever it was?"
"It was ... Inspector Thomassen and she is a woman, not a man."
"Of course, well it is Sweden after all."
"I will call you back."
"Thanks, Alice."
A moment or two later and Alice is back with Grantby's call to Stockholm. An insistent accented voice asks: "Can I speak with Inspector Grantby?"
"This is Chief Inspector Grantby."
"Of course. This is Anna Thomassen. I am with the Swedish National Investigation Bureau. Stockholm County Police were alerted last night by a ... Mr Andrew Pal-mer who told them that his daughter who had disappeared in London in November 2009 had reappeared in Stockholm. She was interviewed by the County Police. When they realized there was a trans-national dimension to the incident, responsibility was transferred to us.
I have spoken with Fru Mak-You-An today and now I am calling you."
"Thank you for your interest Inspector Thomassen." There's something about the woman's clipped delivery that irritates Grantby. That or the fact that she's a woman. Plus he's puzzled by this Fru-Mak-U character. Grantby replies without properly engaging his brain: "Since she is a British subject, don't you think it would have been helpful if you had called earlier?"
Thomassen is quite capable of looking after herself. "I am contacting you only an hour after I have interviewed the girl myself, Chief Inspector," she says deliberately placing a stress on the 'Chief' while pointing out Grantby's mistake. "Actually, she is a Swedish national who has dual citizenship. She may have disappeared in London but she has now reappeared in Stockholm and cannot or will not explain how she came to be here although as a Swedish citizen, she has every right be in Sweden and I have every right to take charge of any investigation here."
Grantby can feel the irritation in Thomassen's voice at his barb. Maybe a less abrasive approach on his side would work better, he thinks. "Inspector Thomassen ... er, It seems to be that we both have something to offer each other in this case ..."
"Yes, I agree. I was hoping you would see it that way. My assessment is that Fru Mak-you-an.." Thomassen's rather mangled version of 'McEwan' allows Grantby a smile to compensate for ground given in the confrontation. "She is suffering from some form of psychological trauma from her experiences over the past months. I have arranged for a psychiatrist to see her and she will be examined by one of our physicians, to look for injuries and so on. I will send you a copy of their reports in translation. She, for example, is very reluctant to say much about what has happened to her. According to her family, she seems to toggle between two different personalities. One personality appears first when she wakes after sleeping and when she is caught off-guard. The other personality, when she is more like the person she used to be, appears after she has had a moment to collect her thoughts. The family live in the UK at the moment and would like to return there, so it is important for us to pass the case on carefully. I cannot really detain her -- though I have told her that she could be arrested and imprisoned for failing to cooperate in the investigation of a crime and I will do that if necessary..."
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