Chapter 2: An Organisation

I looked again at the photographs. I'd often fantasised about having Rebecca like that but somehow things had never worked out that way. I handed the photographs back to Clegg.

"There's only one trouble with your suggestion though," I said as I pulled an envelop from my own jacket, took out the sheet of paper within and handed it to Clegg.

He peered at it and read it out laughing, "Rebecca, I'm sorry. This will be a shock but there's no easy way to say it. I think we should end it. It's not your fault. I guess I'm just not ready for the sort of steady life I think you are looking for." He tossed the paper back to me. "Oh well, our intelligence isn't as faultless it seems. Still it seems like we've done you a favour. Never easy saying good bye is it? And if you're looking for a less steady life then working for us would have a lot to commend it. I mean, it's not like I was asking you to join a tobacco company or something."

For some reason I found myself warming to Clegg. "All right I said, tell me more. Well at least tell me as much as you feel able to without having to kill me if I don't decide to go along with you."

Clegg grinned. "Excellent," he said, pulling up his trousers. "Have another brandy, it's the best cure I know for a hangover. If you're sitting comfortably, then I'll begin."

Clegg started with a question. "How much do you know about slavery today?"

It was a bizarre question as a continuation of a bizarre encounter but I responded as best I could. "Err, not much. I guess these days I mainly associate it with eastern block countries, trafficking women into the west, women kept in prostitution by drugs or threats of exposure to immigration authorities, that sort of thing. Look is this really a safe place to discuss all this?"

Clegg smiled. "Oh yes," he said. "When I said this was my club, I didn't mean that I was a member. It's useful to have a base in London and the staff are very discreet." He went on. "Well, what you say is true but that's very much what I guess you marketing types call the bottom end of the market. Not my area at all. Least ways not as far as the market goes; I've no objection to Hermione's bottom, none at all." He grinned. "No, the area that I'm interested in is rather more sophisticated, shall we say, and with rather higher rewards."

"But slavery nevertheless?"

"Yes, I won't deny it. It is very definitely about the trafficking of women. Collected, rather as young Rebecca has been, prepared for their new lives and sold on. Like all trading businesses mine has its costs, its revenue and, I'm pleased to say, its profits. Most of our activity is concerned with the collection side, lots of research for the most part, although occasionally we'll pick up inventory if the opportunity presents itself. We have one small preparation centre."

"Preparation?"

"Well, you can guess how it is. Take Rebecca for instance. I imagine she's fairly sexually experienced?"

I gave an affirmatory grunt, recalling some energetic evenings and week-ends over the last year. "Yeah, pretty much."

"OK. Even so she won't be used to the idea of being available as and when required. I'm afraid that today's young women have developed a sense of independence that is not always conducive to our requirements. As and when required is what our clients expect. And how required come to that. She'll need time to get used to that idea — our clients can be quite demanding — so she'll definitely need time. And some encouragement. There's a rather secluded location we use for that. We don't do a lot of preparation - we're not what you'd call in the mass market and many of our clients like them still to have a few rough edges to be smoothed out by themselves."