It was dark in the back of the panel truck, and hot. The smell of motor oil and the lingering ghost of bacon sarnies hung in the air. There was no sound save for the ticking of the truck’s engine as it cooled, and the rapid hammering of Jools’s heart in her ears.
She drew in a deep, shuddery breath and tried to calm her racing thoughts. She couldn’t see her hands in front of her face in the inky blackness. Just as well, she reassured herself, trying and failing to swallow the bile of fear in her throat, since her wrists and feet were tightly bound. She was trussed up like one of Granny Nan’s Sunday roasting chickens.
Why had she ever left Dad’s house? Why, oh why, had she decided to run away? Any moment now, those two men would come back and fling open the doors, to take her – where, exactly? She’d lost all sense of direction as they sped away down the Mile End Road in the truck…and the rag tied over her eyes didn’t help matters.
In films, when a girl was abducted, she figured out where she was by listening to the ringing of a church bell or the doleful moan of a foghorn. But there were no audible clues to be had now; all was silent. Even the engine had stopped ticking.
Tears squeezed a hot trail down the sides of her face and into her collar. Where was she? What were they planning to do with her?
Before she could begin to imagine all of the frightening possibilities, she heard the low murmur of voices, growing closer, as footsteps crunched across gravel.
The voices were very near now, just outside the truck. She tensed. Unfortunately, they spoke a foreign language – it sounded like Turkish – and she didn’t understand a single word.
The back doors opened. Jools whimpered in terror as hands grabbed her roughly under the arms and dragged her out; she was set down on her feet outside the truck, and a hand gripped her arm firmly as she stumbled.
It terrified her not to know where she was; more frightening still was being unable to see.
She was hoisted without ceremony over someone’s shoulder and carried, twisting and mewling in fear, inside a building of some sort. She knew they were no longer outside because the faint sounds – crickets, the distant swish of tires on pavement – disappeared with the solid click of a door behind them.
“είναι αυτό της?” The question was asked in a low but authoritative voice. “ναι.”
Jools was placed on her feet but her blindfold and gag remained in place.
“You are unharmed?”
The voice was male, surprisingly gentle, and very close by. Jools tried but couldn’t place the man’s accent. His English was perfect.
She managed to nod.
“Good. You must not scream. It will go much better for you if you remain quiet. Do you understand?”
Again, her heart hammering, she managed a nod. “Remove the gag!” he ordered.
At once, the rag tied around her mouth was loosened and removed, and she dragged in a deep breath.
“Δώστε το νερό της,” he commanded. “ταυτόχρονα!”
Immediately, a bottle of water was produced and held to her lips. She took a cautious sip, then greedily swallowed more.
Her lips and throat were parched and the water tasted cool and delicious.
As the liquid slid down her throat, Jools had a sudden, horrible thought. Oh, God – what if they’d put something in the water? Poison, perhaps, or some sort of drug?
As if he’d read her thoughts, the man murmured, “Don’t be afraid; it’s only water. No harm shall come to you, little one. I promise you that. Not,” he added softly, “if things go according to plan.”
“What plan?” Jools demanded, and twisted against the hand that gripped her arm. “Take this blindfold off! Untie me! Why am I here? Who are you?”
“Patience,” he chided her. “You make demands, and you ask questions, questions I cannot at present answer.”
He turned aside and barked, “Take the girl to her room. Then remove the blindfold and untie her hands and feet. See that she is comfortable and that she has everything she needs.”
“Please,” she implored him, nearly in tears, “let me go. Tell these yobbos to let me go. I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise I won’t—”
“Enough,” the man warned her. His words were undercut with steel. “Cooperate, and all will go well for you. However, if you misbehave…I cannot be responsible for the consequences. Do we understand one another?”
She swallowed and nodded, unable to speak past the fear lodged in her throat.
“Excellent. Sleep well, little one.” He turned away and commanded, “Take her, and do not harm a hair on her head, or you shall answer to me. Go!”
The man holding her arm replied in the affirmative, then led her, numb and stumbling, down what seemed to be a long corridor. Thick carpeting silenced their footsteps, and there was a strange, exotic scent in the air. Her captors stopped, and she heard the click of a key turning in a lock. She was thrust roughly inside a room.
Quickly, her hands and feet were untied. She did not fight or lash out; she was far too afraid of the consequences the man in authority had warned her of to risk defiance. She knew instinctively that he’d meant every word.
Lastly, they removed her blindfold. She whirled around, but all she saw was the door closing swiftly behind them, and she heard the lock’s tumbler falling into place once again.
She lunged forward and tried the door nonetheless. Of course, it was locked.
Jools turned slowly around. She was alone in a lavishly appointed bedroom. A four-poster bed, richly swathed in red silk, dominated the centre of the room; red and gold silk cushions were scattered on the floor around a low table in one corner. A hookah stood on the table, and a plate of biscuits and a bowl of fruit was on offer as well; she glimpsed grapes, and figs, and fat Medjool dates.
Well, Jools reflected, only slightly reassured, at least they didn’t plan on starving her to death.
She surveyed the walls. There was no window, no sound, no clue as to where she might be. She could be anywhere.
Why on earth had they taken her? The men who’d grabbed her and Adesh before had wanted him! What could they possibly want with her?
Jools went to the bed and lowered herself onto the red silk counterpane. It was blissfully soft. She was exhausted. It must be early morning; they’d snatched her from the bus stop on Adesh’s street at least a couple of hours ago, to the best of her knowledge, so it was long past midnight.
She sagged back against the pillows, her thoughts tangled. After arriving in Bethnal Green, Jools had walked the last bit to Adesh’s house. It was dark; as she walked along the street, she suddenly realized how foolish she’d been to go there alone. A pair of boys in hoodies eyed her from a doorway across the street, and one of them called out something rude.
Jools quickened her steps, hearing their laughter, low and unpleasant, behind her. She thought she heard the shuffle of their footsteps behind her. Just as she’d raced around the corner, relieved that she was nearly at Adesh’s house, a figure loomed out of the shadows in front of her and grabbed her arm. She opened her mouth to scream but his hand covered her mouth, and he drew her back hard against him and hissed at her to shut up. A second man brandished a gun at her and pointed it with a jerk of his head towards a dingy white panel truck idling at the kerb.
Desperate to escape, terrified out of her mind, Jools kicked back at her captor as hard as she could. He grunted in pain but tightened his hold on her arm and shoved her towards the van.
They thrust her into the rear of the truck and climbed in after her, and the doors slammed shut. One of them tied her hands and feet together, while the other took her mobile away and produced a blindfold and a gag. Moments later, the truck lurched forward.
She began to shiver uncontrollably as she relived the fear she’d felt in the back of that van. Unable to see or speak, not knowing where they were taking her or why, she’d imagined dozens of horrible scenarios. Would she see her mother again? Her dad? Adesh?
Despite the frantic whirl of her thoughts, despite her complete and utter terror, exhaustion eventually overtook her, and Jools fell into a light and troubled sleep.