Chapter 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..."

Crikey, thinks Grantby. They do not mess about, these Swedes do they? "Ah", is all he says.

" ... and people trafficking is definitely a crime here. It is a problem we have to deal with often."

"So how would you like to proceed?"

"Fru Mak-you-an and her family wish to fly back to London on Saturday. There is a British Airways flight from Stockholm Arlanda airport at 12.20 our time which arrives at London Heathrow at 14:05 your time. I shall have my officers conduct the family safely to Arlanda and see them on to their aircraft and you might want to arrange for them to be met? Just a precaution against the elements who have been holding Mrs McEwan, you understand. I can come to London to speak with you myself the following week. That will be suitable?"

Grantby almost expects Anna Thomassen's arm to issue out of the telephone mouthpiece and write the appointment in his diary, right there and them.

Grantby clears his throat and says "Er ... just let me see..."

"I believe this is important..."

"Yes, I agree but just give me a moment ... Yes. I am free on Monday, when..."

"Nine AM?"

"Can we make that ten?"

"Of course. Ten AM. Can you let your reception staff know to expect me? I will email you a photograph for them to confirm my identity and I will have my passport and Swedish Police Identification badge."

Grantby tries a joke of his own: "Don't forget to leave your gun at home."

"Thank you Chief Inspector", Thomassen replies rather testily, "I do know that. I will tell the Pal-mers and the Mak-you-ans that your people will meet them."

Grantby smiles at the way Thomassen seems to be organising his job for him but he only says, "Thank you. That will be helpful. I will look forward to meeting you on Monday?"

"Yes: till Monday. Goodbye." With that, Thomassen has gone.

Grantby sits back in his chair for a moment. He is a little surprised that the Swedes felt the need to make sure the McEwans and Mrs McEwan's parents had safe passage to the airport. In his experience, victims released from a siege situation or from kidnap were not at risk from their abductors afterwards, but then in his experience, these situations usually ended with the perpetrators in custody themselves. Perhaps the Swedes were used to dealing with a rather different class of criminals? Who to send to Heathrow? He glances through the file again. Borland had taken a statement from Mr McEwan in the immediate aftermath of his wife's disappearance. Sergeant Borland is now working for him so she might be a good person to pick up the reins of the case once more?

A New Form of Brunch.

One of Joe's work colleagues, a certain Gwenda Andrews, is also in Sweden. Their carnal encounters in London and at her home in the Warwickshire countryside have only encouraged her view that they should spend more time together and Gwenda is not the sort of girl to opportunities pass her by

Gwenda Andrews stretches in her bed at her hotel. Bright sunlight leaks into her room around the edge of curtains hastily drawn the night before. It's a lovely day and she has something pleasant to look forward to.

Today she is going to look up Joe McEwan and lighten his mood! Gwenda has developed a very soft spot for Joe. Why his wife abandoned him is completely beyond her. He's a nice guy and, she thinks mischievously, he's got an even nicer submissive streak she can play with!

Gwenda revisits the memory of their previous encounters. She remembers Joe on his knees kissing her feet. Joe on his knees again, but this time on her bed in her home, naked with his bum in the air and Gwenda enthusiastically slapping a broad, supple, leather paddle across it! How beautifully buttocks change colour when you have a pale skin, like Joe. First pink, then red and finally a nice dark red with the promise of purple bruising!

Satisfied with his colouring, she had turned him over and given him a good hard fucking. She still remembered how he gasped as she brought her weight down on his cock and pressed his sore, bruised buttocks against the sheets. The pain had pushed him to a stiffer erection than he had imagined possible but it hadn't been long with her riding his cock before he had cum. Then she had straddled his head with her legs and had him clean her with his tongue, tasting and swallowing his own cum until she was absolutely satisfied that she was one-hundred-percent clean!.

They had slept soundly together that night, wrapped in each other's arms. In the morning they'd been at it all over again! Spanking! Fucking! Cuming! Sucking! Cuming all over again! It was what the boy had needed. It was what he probably needed again. Hmmm. Yes, he needed to be trained. And Gwenda is sure that she is the one to make sure that Joe gets what he needs.

Gwenda arches her back. While she's been recalling these happy memories, her fingers have been lightly stroking her labia and rubbing at her clit. They've slipped and slid in her vaginal juices, called forth by her reflections and actions. They are sticky with her thoughts and anticipations of more time with Joe.

After coffee, Gwenda takes her hire care and gingerly edges out into the traffic along Rålambshovsleden. The car has satnav – an English speaking satnav - but she is still unfamiliar with the traffic flows and signs.

She drives carefully – diffidently - under Route 275 at the roundabout and onto Lindhagensgatan and left following signs for E20-E4

Gwenda's satnav takes her south across the islands of Lilla Essingen and Stora Essingen to Gröndal, onwards to an impressive traffic interchange at Midsommarkransen and then through the even more impressive Södra Länken and Årstratunneln system, to join Route 73. She's looking at the road system with an engineer's eyes. These are definitely something she should find out more about. The effort expended in constructing the tunnels alone! She scans the smooth bore of the tunnel as she drives; it's something which should be on the Stockholm tourist itinerary for every engineer, she thinks.

After several kilometres, Gwenda leaves R73 and begins to thread her way eastwards though suburban Stockholm towards Drevikken. The sat-nav in the car has guided her carefully and effectively to her destination. At last it brings her along the winding lakeside roads, towards the Summer House.

As she nears her goal, Gwenda's level of anxiety begins to rise. Has she chosen a good time to call? Late morning seems reasonable. If it's not the right moment she doesn't have to stay. Perhaps after a polite interlude for coffee she could leave. If, on the other hand, there's a warmer welcome, she could stay longer and get to know Joe's in-laws a little better. Perhaps she can arrange to meet Joe in central Stockholm the next day – and devour him all over again!

As she drives along the winding approach road, Gwenda is vaguely aware of a white and blue Saab behind her but now when she looks in her mirror there is no sign of it. There's not another car in sight as she drives up to the Summer House. She parks her car and gets out. It's a bright summer morning. She feels the sun on her face, warm after the cool of the car's air conditioning. There's a smell of pine trees. The sunlight is strong and casts dark pools of shadow through the trees. Gwenda picks her way carefully up the path to the front door. There's a bag with a gift of biscuits in her hand. She is holding the tin under her right arm and knocks, stepping back so as to leave space for whoever answers the door.