Chapter 12: Private Medicine

London and Warwick.

Tuesday. 6 days after Jennifer reappears

"You had a busy day yesterday?" DI Grantby looks up from the papers he is reviewing and out through the door of his office as Sgt Borland pulls off her coat.

"Yes, Sir. A productive day, I thought." She walks across to the door.

"Mmmm, I looked through your report. I'm impressed."

Borland smiles. She's not used to complements from Grantby. "I was surprised I made as much progress as I did. I thought I'd have to go through the origins and destinations of thousands of shipping containers. This was a real break."

"Looks as if it could be, doesn't it?" Grantby is, as ever, cautious when presented with answers at an early stage. Long experience has taught him that quick answers aren't always good ones. "Let's not leap to any conclusions though. This Russian bloke..."

"Anatoly Kustensky?" Borland is happy to be discussing her report. It's one of the things she likes about working with Grantby; he's always ready to listen. He never just works with the paper.

"Yes, him. He is supposed to have been in the KGB so unless he has become very careless in his old age, I bet he has made some fairly sophisticated attempts to cover his tracks. Assuming he is at the bottom of the affair, of course. It all seems a bit too good to be true and, as far as I'm concerned, if things seem too good to be true, they often are too good to be true." He looks up at Borland. "So, let's spend today doing some careful, traditional, police work. No theorizing. No guessing. Just collecting. When we've got some more we'll see what we do with it. I think you should go to this private hospital that the airport MO talked about. I will see what I can find out about Dr Hahn." (1)

Back channels.

Borland grins and nods. She wasn't expecting to spend the morning in the office anyway.

Grantby sits back and thinks for a moment. He peers out of the window. Pigeons fly past to swoop down on crumbs in the street below. It's no good pecking around like them, he thinks. He needs some background information on Doctor Hahn. Some back channels are going to be best place to start. He 'phones an old friend in what used to be called 'Special Branch'. (2)

The voice on the other end of the line is brusque. "Lockwood."

"Mick? Hi, Colin Grantby here. Look I wonder if you can give me a heads up about a German orthopaedic surgeon called Dr Artur Hahn?"

"Hahn?" Mick Lockwood is happy to help. Grantby is old school, respects the turf boundaries, always a good bloke to have on side.

"That's right : H - A - H - N, first name Artur. Just wondered if you had anything on him? I am just trying to work out if he needs further attention in something I'm working on."

"So what's he maybe done, this chap?"

"Not sure, Mick, if I'm honest. I am reinvestigating a disappearance case from the end of 2009. The girl concerned has just surfaced in Stockholm. Her boss is friends with a former KGB man and the KGB man who has turned into some sort of plutocrat has a yacht which was close to where the girl was found. When we looked into the disappearance first time round, there was a wild story about McEwan (that's the girl) and her boss (a woman called Angela Dawney) being arrested and questioned by people from the CIA. You might remember that we asked your people to speak to MI5 and ask the Yanks what they were up to..."

"Oh yes, I remember The Yanks denied all knowledge. They were all 'What us? We wouldn't act without liaison?' Lying buggers, I thought at the time! How interesting your girl has popped up again. So how does this German surgeon fit into the picture?"

"I have a very keen young sergeant on my team who has found out that another of Mr Kustensky's toys – a private jet this time – left Farnborough on the night of McEwan's disappearance with a sedated young woman on board. Said woman looks a bit like the girl we are interested in but the 'official line' is that the girl on the plane was a medical evacuation case. Very sore back after a riding accident."

"And Hahn was involved?"

"He set up the evacuation."

"Ah. OK Colin. Just leave that with me and I will see what I can find out."

"Thanks Mick."

"Cheers. That's what mates are for, aren't they?"

Visitors in the Morning

Its Tuesday morning or as I ought to say, 'ftorneek zavtra.' Joe is going in to work. Yesterday he spoke to his boss – Chris Parker – at the office to tell him about me. Mr Parker said he could have extra time for us to be together but today, Joe still wants to go into the office, to see what is going on. I am afraid to see him go. I will be alone. Perhaps for a few hours. What if Neena comes to collect me? I will have to go, of course but I do not want Joe to come back and find the house empty with no explanation.

Whilst he is in the bathroom, I go into the room he uses for an office and write a short note, just in case. "Dear Joe. I am sorry I am not here for you. Neena came for me this morning, so I had to go. Say goodbye to Mummy and Daddy for me. Thank you for everything.

Love, Vyera"

I can hear him coming. I quickly hide the note. I will leave it in our bedroom beneath the duvet when he has gone. Somewhere he will find it if Neena says I am not allowed to leave anything like that.

The doorbell rings!

"I'll get it", calls Joe.

Ahhh! She has come after all! And so soon, too. She is here for me. Joe will just have to hand me over. Oh, I did want to stay longer, though. To see Cathy and George again. To spend some time with my parents again. I can hear voices. Joe calls... "Jenny it's for both of us, it's Inspector Ackroyd and Dr Elba, again."

In an instant, I go from being sad at leaving Joe again to feeling on edge and determined not to betray my Owners. What was it Neena said to me yesterday? 'You do not have permission to talk about us'. That includes me! I am still us. I felt so pleased and proud and happy to hear her include me. To point out that I was us – and now I am anxious and fearful. Joseph says there are police here and the doctor lady. They will want me to talk about us and I have to remain silent and guard the privacy of my Owners. I feel so alone! So naked. How I wish Neena was here, standing with me. I slowly descend the stairs, to see a smallish man with an oval face. Standing beside him is the woman from the airport. She has pale skin, fuzzy long black hair and a denim skirt decorated with appliquéd flowers.

"You must be Mrs McEwan?", says the man, shaking my hand.

"I'm Inspector Brian Ackroyd from Warwickshire Police and this is my colleague Annie Elba who is up from London. I am afraid your husband had to put up with quite a lot from me and my team just after you had gone away. I don't think we actually took up all the floor boards looking for you but it came quite close!"

He says this in a thick West Midlands accent and a big smile on his face. He is trying to tease Joe but as I glance at Joe, there I can see a squall of unpleasant memories crossing Joseph's face.

"and of course I am Annie Elba" says the woman. "I had a moment or two on Saturday with Mr McEwan and your parents and I wanted to see you as soon as I could after you had time to catch your breath! We're sorry to call so early but we wanted to catch you before you went out."

" ... so", Inspector Ackroyd is talking again, "when people come back from being away unexpectedly, we like to have a word," Mr. Ackroyd shrugs and wrinkles his nose as if to indicate that is all a bit of a formality. Something he and his colleague can get out of the way in a few minutes. How can I make a short and concise account of all that happened to me during all the past terrifying months? Abducted, held against my will, trained as a slave, accepting my slavery, coming to love my Owners, writing a doctorate thesis, behaving like a complete slut, graduating PhD at a famous European University, being released, coming home; all of that? Yet there is more to it. Most of this is very private. I do not even know how my relationship with Joseph can be rebuilt now or even if I am expected to do that and I have to keep most of what happened to me private because I must be loyal to my Owners.

I suddenly feel very tired. Perhaps it is something showing in my face, but Inspector Ackroyd says, "So do you think I can have a word with Mr McEwan while Annie and Mrs McEwan can have a few minutes together?"

Annie Elba is small, bright and comes with a fizzing energy. "I tell you what," she says, "I could murder a cup of tea. What about you? It needs to be strong, mind. Let's go into the kitchen?"

This seems to be safer. Ever since I had to see the lady detective in Stockholm, who told me she could send me to prison, I have felt very wary about police. They pry too much into things which are none of their business. They try to trick me into saying things I do not want to say. Silently I follow her.

"So where do you keep everything?"

Instantly I am transported back in time just a few weeks. It is in the middle of the night. Alana Sergeyevna is in labour in a clinic in Moscow, with Dr. Malyevitch in attendance. I am standing naked with my Owners who are also naked. We are going to drink tea together. Anatoly Sergeyevitch has asked me to help him. The master asking the slave for help. The memory dissolves. Now, I am in an unfamiliar small little kitchen with a woman I do not know with strengthening resolve to be loyal.

She looks around for the kettle and mugs.

"Here, let me help", I say, "Chai s malakom ele chai byez malakom? Sacharam ele djam?"

Then I realize what I have just said. In the easy domestic surroundings of a kitchen I have asked this police person in Russian if she wants tea with or without milk and if she wants it with sugar or jam and the clever woman replies brightly.

"Tea with djam? I have not tried that before. May I have raspberry? If you have it?"

"Yes", I say weakly. "I will get it for you."

But inside I understand that in answering carelessly, I have been disloyal. Oh Neena! Please come and help me. Use your cane to remind me to be careful and help me to be loyal!

A Tale of Two Partners

We are sitting opposite one another, on opposite sides of the kitchen table.

"This very good", the woman says, pushing the hair off her face and taking another mouthful of her tea. I wish I could still do that. Play with my hair. Actually, I want to have the feeling of pulling my hair back and putting it into a tight bun. To enjoy the feeling of it pulling on my scalp. Alas, that is not for me anymore. Best not to dwell on what I cannot have. Being bald makes me easier to maintain. Easier and quicker for me to achieve a high standard of appearance. I must content myself with that.

" ... and I am what is called a Police Psychologist. I thought we ought to have a few moments together just to explain some ground rules. The first is that although I am on your side my job is to help people like Brian Ackroyd find out if anyone had committed a crime against you or any other sort of crime. You might have information which could help, even information you do not think you have. Also, I know you will have to come to terms with bad memories and some days will be easier for you than others, so when we are together, it is OK for you to tell me how much you can cope with. I gave your husband the name of another psychologist who could help you work through what has happened. That would be a therapeutic relationship and anything you said there would be confidential between you and the other psychologist. Neither I nor Brian Ackroyd would get to know anything you said unless you were happy for us to know. Lastly, I know this might take time, before you are easy about telling me about things which happened when you were away, so I am not in a hurry. Is that OK? I mean, do you think we will be able to work together?"

She pauses. Her head slightly on one side. Her eyebrows raised to emphasize her question to me.

"I have spoken to someone like you before."

"Yes, I know. The police in Stockholm have been in touch."

"Yes and there was another woman who spoke to me as well. She told me that if I did not cooperate she would send me to prison. I am half Swedish and I suppose she could have me sent back if she decides to."

"Did she really? That is not very nice. Would you like to go back? To Sweden I mean, not to prison!"

"Yes, I have family in Stockholm and yes I would like to go back there but not to get into trouble."

"No, of course not. How did you feel, when she was speaking to you?"

"I felt like I was something to be used. She wanted to use me to get information, like my Ow ... like the people I was with when they needed me to do things for them."

"Did you like doing things for the people you were with?"

"Not at first. I was cross with them. Later on I did."

"Were they kind to you?"

"Yes."

"All the time?"

"No, well I had to learn what I was."

"What were you?"

"I was ... I don't want to say anymore just now thank you."

"That's OK. You are in the driving seat. Can you tell me about this tea? I have never had tea like this before. Is it Swedish?"

"No, its..."

"Russian? I only ask because you spoke a bit of Russian earlier. I learned a bit at school. Don't ask me to get buy tickets on the Moscow Underground though! Actually have you ever seen pictures of that? It is absolutely bloody fantastic!"

I start to smile, broadly. It must be obvious that her innocent remark has sparked a memory. She says: "What is your favourite station?"

It slips out so easily. I say "Mayakovskaya"

She says "Mmmm?"

I say, "look, can we stop now? I am feeling very tired." But inside I am angry and fearful. The way this clever woman is ferreting around in my mind, pushing open doors I want to keep closed. Pulling open draws and emptying their contents onto the floor, to see what is there, whether I want to or not. This slippery woman will have me telling her everything before long and then what will happen?

...

Whilst Annie Elba is drinking tea with Jenny in the kitchen, Joe is in the lounge having a much more focused conversation with Brian Ackroyd...

"Well, Mr McEwan, my warmest congratulations! I was delighted to hear from Chief Inspector Grantby about Mrs McEwan. So it was completely out of the blue? You had no inkling that she was in Stockholm?"

"Actually, Mr Ackroyd, we were there to ay good-bye to Jennifer..."

"I'm sorry?"

"The holiday was Inga Palmer's idea. Well, you know they have a house there?"

"Er, I am not sure I did exactly but go on..."

"Inga phoned me one day in spring. Was it in May or April? I can't properly remember. Anyway, she said that she and Andrew - that's Jenny's dad - were going to their house and did I want to come. As a matter of fact, I did not want to go at all. I had just reached the point where I felt that the best thing I could do was to accept the idea that Jenny was not coming back. Ever. I talked it over with a friend - Inga's invitation - and she said I should go. I think her intuition was that this was a chance for us all to say goodbye as a family and then we would all move on..."

"Except that you came full circle?"

"Yes. We came full circle. Do you know that I did not recognise her at first?"

"Mrs McEwan?"

"Yes: she looked so different. Her colour. Her physique but especially, the way she came. We were sitting on the Quay after dinner. Just watching the world go by and then, there she was. Standing there in the water, saying she could always go back if I did not want her. Would you believe that?"

"Where did she mean?"

"Goodness only knows. Go back to where she had come from I suppose. We all stood there. Unable to believe what we were seeing."

"Has she said anything more since? About where she was?"

"No."

"Not at all?"

"No."

"Oh ... so what is it like? Being together again?"

"It's like it is just after you get married. You are sort of shy with each other. You don't know exactly how each of you does things, even though you have been close for a while. We didn't live together before we got married..."

"No?"

"No. I suppose I am a bit traditional."

"Nothing wrong with that. Being traditional."

"Anyway, it feels like we have just begun to live together, all over again."

"Yes, but this time you will settle in with each other pretty quickly?"

"Do you think so?"

"Do you?"

"No, I don't think we will."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I don't know who she is anymore. She is such a strange mixture of the assertive and the completely submissive. That's a bit of a technical word these days. I mean she is ... the perfect wife. She seems to be obsessed with getting the house 'just so'."

"Meaning?"

"So, we are in the bathroom yesterday. I was shaving. She was in the shower. She gets washed, wipes the walls down with a squeegee and then dries out the shower with her towel before getting dry her self. I asked her what she was doing and she said something about ... about ... well this seems so embarrassing really. She said it was how things ought to be done. She had told someone else to behave like that and they had not done what she had told them and she – that is Jenny – she was frightened that she would be punished, for not teaching them properly."

"So who was this other person?"

"I can't remember properly. Something like Pa ... Pav ... I am sorry: its just gone."

"Hmmm. What happened next?"

"She finished up and went into out bedroom and just sat waiting for me. Sat as if she was waiting to be told what to do next."

"What did you do next?"

"I had a shower and when I was done, I cleaned and dried out the shower just like she had done. Out of respect, I suppose. It seems as if it would be rude and unkind not to and I did not want her to rush back into the bathroom and start cleaning up after me. Look, there was something else I wanted to ask you. Are we in danger?"

"Danger? How do you mean? Here?"

"Yes. Here. At home. If Jenny was abducted, are they going to come for her again? When the police in Stockholm had finished with us the morning after Jenny had come back, they brought us back to the Summer House. There seemed a lot going on when we arrived and they kept people on duty at the house all the time we were there. They even took us to the airport. As if it was dangerous for us to go on our own."

"Hmmm. Mr McEwan, right now, the police would like to know if Mrs McEwan left home and went somewhere on her own – and maybe got quite a bit more than she was expecting or on the other hand, whether she was abducted. If we had a clear idea of the right answer, we would know what to do next. When we look at the information we have at the moment, quite frankly, you could argue it either way so I have to say that I would be interested to know what impression you form as you two get used to one another. I don't want you to feel you are informing on your wife but we would like to know what sort of conclusions we should be drawing. The Swedish Police do think Mrs McEwan has been in the hands of a people trafficking gang but that is the sort of crime they have to deal with quite often. Your wife is nothing like the sort of woman who gets ensnared in that sort of thing in this country. Not by a million miles. I can also say that kidnaps are not a common crime in the UK and when we meet up with them, people prized out of the hands of their captors are very unlikely to be troubled ever again, mainly because we have brought the criminals to book or the criminals have taken flight never to return, but I am not being complacent. I am just trying to put this incident into context. Oh, erm – there is one slightly delicate matter..."

"Oh?"

"Did you have any colleagues in Stockholm at the same time you were there?"

"Yes. Actually it was the girl I spoke to about whether I should go on this holiday with Andrew and Inga in the first place. Gwenda said she might drop in and visit but in the event, I guess she was not able to. Why? What's funny?"

"Well, Mr McEwan I have to tell you that she did pay you a surprise visit and she got herself arrested by the Swedish police and held in custody until they could be sure who she was. You might have a bit of ground to make up there. I would try flowers and a bottle of wine if I were you. Maybe throw in some chocolates, too – just to be on the safe side!"

Private Hospitals

Sergeant Borland gets back to her desk and thinks for a moment. Should she merely turn up at the Wellesley Hospital and ask to speak to the Chief Executive, or should she call first and ask for an appointment sometime that day? She does not want her enquiry to sound too urgent, but she doesn't want her enquires to be delayed either. Also, she does not want information about her enquires leaked to Dr Hahn.

After a moment, she decides to call for an appointment. "Wellesley Hospital? Can you put me through to Mr Bryant, your Chief Executive? Sergeant Borland Metropolitan Police Missing Persons Unit speaking."

The Chief Executive's secretary comes on the line quickly. "Christine Irving here, Mr Bryant's secretary. Can I help you?"

"I am sure you can. I need to speak with Mr Bryant, reasonably urgently. I will need fifteen to thirty minutes of his time? I would be very pleased if he can see me today?"

"I am afraid Mr Bryant is rather committed today..."

"Thank you Ms Irving. I understand Mr Bryant will be busy but I do need to see him and I am sure it would be easiest on his time if I came to see him, rather than the other way round, don't you?"

"Oh, of course." Christine Irving is protective of her boss's time but she also knows when it is sensible to compromise. "Let me speak with him and find a good time? Shall I call you back?"

"No, I will hold." Borland knows that as long as she's on the line there's no risk that she'll be 'forgotten'. She smiles. Her oblique implied threat that Mr Bryant might be taken to a local police station for questioning seems to have helped the secretary make arrangements. A moment later, she is back on the line.

"Mr Bryant will be pleased to make room for you in his diary any time today. He has a Clinical Governance Meeting at 4 this afternoon, which he really has to attend but apart from that, he will be happy to see you."

"It's now 9:30. Say 10:30?"

"Of course. Ask for me at Main Reception and I will come to meet you."

Sergeant Borland takes the Victoria Line Underground from Victoria, changes to the Bakerloo Line at Oxford Circus and arrives at Swiss Cottage. It's only a short walk to The Wellesley. Soon she can see the white stepped frontage of the Hospital. It is a large, impressive building but the main entrance is easy to find. Before long, she is seated in the Chief Executive's office, with a view over the roofs and trees of this rather affluent part of North London.

"So how can I help, Sergeant?" Bryant speaks - rather incongruously Borland thinks – with a pronounced north of England accent. She expected to face some smooth, sophisticated, ex-army type, not a gritty sounding northerner. Northerners have a reputation for bluntness, so Borland gets down to business.

"I am investigating a disappearance and I'm trying to exclude a few 'red herrings' from my enquiries. There was a patient in your hospital around the 7^th, 8^th and 9^th November 2009, under the care of an orthopaedic surgeon called Doctor Artur Hahn."

"Ah". Bryant suddenly sits more erect in his chair. "You'll forgive me if I am careful here, Sergeant. There may be issues of patient confidentiality, I am sure you understand."

Borland looks straight back at Bryant. She understands barriers to cooperation when she sees them. "I realize that, Mr Bryant but if there is an on-going Police investigation." (She almost says 'into people trafficking' but decides to play her cards a little closer to her chest this stage) "It's possibly related to a serious crime. I think the circumstances override the necessity for confidentiality." She pauses, inviting him to disagree with her. "Don't you?"

Bryant caves in surprisingly quickly, Borland feels. Maybe he is just used to puffing up his position in this way. "Yes, yes. Well, of course they do. Just this one patient?"

"Just this one. She was called Anna Tereshkova. Do you need to spell that?"

"Just the last name."

"T-e-r-e-s-h-k-o-v-a."

"I see. Well, I'll see if we have anything..."

Bryant calls his secretary and asks her to find any records that they might have. He is obviously discomforted by the presence of Borland. She's not sure if that is a usual reaction to a disturbance in his day's routine or because he has something to hide. Whilst the two of them wait, he says. "You've worried me, Sergeant. Do you think someone here was involved in a disappearance? I mean, is there some risk that clinical staff her may have been engaged in illegal activities? Is there anything that might affect the safe operation of my hospital?"

Borland is quietly satisfied at the discomfort she has generated. She certainly has no incentive to put him at ease, she is happy to keep up the tension she has generated in the interview. She does not go out of her way to reassure him. "I agree, Mr Bryant. It is serious. That's exactly why I am keen to have a clear view of the evidence."

The efficient Ms Irving is soon back with Anna Tereshkova's medical file. Bryant opens the pages and leaves through the pages. There are not many.

"So what is it that you were wanting to know, Sergeant?"

"Just some rather routine information ... Date and time of admission, Date and time of discharge, UK address and home address, if there is one."

"I can give you all that, Sergeant. I'd only be reticent to discuss details of her treatment ... I'm sure you can understand that."

Borland knows she could get the details if necessary but they probably don't matter. "I don't think I need the details but I would like to know if you think that treatment she had was right for her diagnosis."

Borland notices that Bryant is shifting uncomfortably in his chair again. "Whether or not the patient's Management Plan – sorry that's just some of our jargon – fits with the diagnosis is a clinical matter. I couldn't possibly comment. I mean if there was any problem with something like that ... well, that would be Clinical Governance issue. I would be very concerned if there was any possibility that there could be a serious performance issue affecting one of the surgeons approved to work here."

Borland still isn't sure if Bryant is being deliberately obstructive or is just defensive about any suggestion of problems within his hospital. As far as Borland is concerned though, it doesn't really matter. "Well, Mr Bryant, you seem to employ about twenty orthopaedic surgeons –perhaps one of them could glance through the file and let me know of any concerns?"

"What sort of concerns?"

"Does what was done for the patient correspond to the diagnosis, for example. Did Dr Hahn do what he would have done?"

"Normally we would really only have that sort of information as the end result of a formal performance review."

"That's not where I'm trying to get to, Mr. Bryant. I don't think this will ever come to that. I'm looking for a simple opinion at this stage. Just an assessment of," she pauses. "the Management Plan, as you called it?"

Bryant nods.

" ... so is there anyone in the building who could help?"

Bryant inhales deeply. "I will see", he says and phones through to his secretary.

Some minutes later Bernard Thomas, another of the hospital's panel of surgeons joins them. Borland recognizes his name from the lists of staff she has seen. He flicks through the file. He checks the diagnosis, test results, clinician's notes, nursing observations, and management plan. Finally he looks through the correspondence.

"So what's the matter? This is all very much in order - exactly as I would expect from one of Artur's cases, actually. He is very sharp. There doesn't seem to have been much wrong with this girl. Mind you if she had what Artur thought she had it can be bloody painful." He flips over a few prints from some digital x-rays. "Not much on those – well no surprise there. No big investigations done..."

"Big investigations?"

"CT and MR scanning. (3) Frankly as she was not going to be here for long and there were no nerve compression symptoms, it would have been a waste of time, money and radiation for the patient. If she had come to me, I would have done exactly what he did: put her in a bed, let her get over the worst of the discomfort after the injury, check there was nothing more significant and send her home."

"So there is nothing in the records that seems ... out of place ... inappropriate ... curious?"