Knight & Culverhouse Box Set - Books 7-9

Chapter 20

20

PC Karim Rashid didn’t mind conducting interviews. Actually, he quite liked it.

He knew a lot of police officers who preferred to be out on the beat. Not so long ago, he’d been one of them. But that part of the job wasn’t anything like he’d expected. It mostly consisted of sitting in people’s living rooms, taking statements about disputes with neighbours or arguments over spilt milk.

Sure, he’d had his fair share of juicy calls, too. He’d been the first on the scene at a couple of murders, and that had sparked his desire to move into the backrooms of policing. He found far more stimulation in working through the processes and logistics of solving crimes. He quite enjoyed being tasked with reviewing CCTV images, cross-referencing car registration data with the DVLA and following up on claims made in statements.

If he was true to himself, he’d have to say he rather fancied a stint in CID at some point. He knew how much of the real policing work was done behind the scenes, despite what many members of the public believed. It was a common perception that having fewer police officers on the street was a bad thing. In many ways, that was true. But there was no denying that serious crime on a national level had fallen in recent years, and that was largely down to the huge amount of resources put into backroom intelligence. Locally, the picture was rather different, with serious crime still being a major issue for Mildenheath Police to tackle.

From what he’d been told about the interview he was about to conduct, it all seemed pretty pedestrian. On the face of it, two lads had been found hiding out in the park, suspected of having stolen from a local shop. They’d refused to speak to the police, wouldn’t give their names and seemed to be generally uncooperative. But Karim had a feeling there was something else to be uncovered.

It didn’t quite sit right with him. The shopkeeper who’d reported the theft was quite adamant that the lads who’d stolen the food were homeless. He claimed he’d seen them sleeping rough around Mildenheath. Despite that, the two men in custody showed no sign of being rough sleepers. They didn’t have sleeping bags, possessions or anything of the sort which might indicate they’d made a home on the streets. That’s not to say they looked like they were happy and healthy — they clearly didn’t have any money and weren’t going home to their four-bedroom detached properties at the end of each day, but Karim was sure there was more to the story than simple vagrancy.

The fact that the stolen food was nowhere to be found was a little odd, too. The bushes in the park were the ideal hiding place. They were there because the park was shut and there’d be no passers-by. It would be the perfect place to keep their new stash of food. There was no way they’d eaten it all whilst heading for the sanctuary of the park — there was enough for days — and it would have been barmy to have hidden it en route. There was nowhere less public and conspicuous than the hiding place where they were found.

If it was a case of mistaken identity, though, why did they not want to cooperate with the police? Why wouldn’t they even give their names? There was something else going on here, and Karim was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He walked into the interview room and sat down at the table. He’d been asked to interview the man who actually spoke some English. His friend would be interviewed separately by another officer, using the services of an interpreter.

The man looked nervous and concerned as Karim sat down. The duty solicitor smiled benevolently, trying to put him at ease. They’d had time to discuss things between themselves, and no doubt they’d have a plan of action up their sleeves. More often than not, this involved answering ‘no comment’ to every question in the hope that it would frustrate the police and give the suspect the advantage of not inadvertently perjuring oneself. In practice, though, that was not the case. If and when cases reached the court, no-commenting his way through the interview process was not going to be seen as a mark in the favour of the defendant. Many times, sentences were increased or juries were swayed by the defendant’s refusal to cooperate with the police.

Either way, Karim was happy. He would continue to ask the questions he had to answer, and it was up to the suspect to ruin his own chances of being viewed as an innocent party. Sometimes it was tempting to ‘do a Paxman’, and to keep barking the same question at the suspect over and over, in the inimitable style of the dogged BBC presenter. But that wouldn’t do the interviewing officer any favours when it came to court. It was far better to ask the question once, perhaps reframe it if it was answered with ‘no comment’, then move on to the next question. The result was that the interviewing officer would be seen as having acted fairly and impartially, and there would be no question of him or her having been unduly influenced by the suspect’s stubborn refusal to cooperate.

Karim pushed the button on the recording machine to begin the interview.

‘PC Karim Rashid, conducting the first interview with an unidentified male in the presence of the duty solicitor, Kevin Randall. First things first, do you want to give me your name or are you going to remain unidentified?’

Before the man could speak, Randall interrupted.

‘My client would like to make it known that he wishes to apologise for not cooperating with the police at the time of his arrest, and that external influences were responsible for that decision, which he now regrets. We discussed the reasons and the facts behind this, and I suggested that he might like to provide the police with a prepared statement, but he declined.’

Karim nodded. He knew that legal privilege meant he could only ask what was discussed, but that the suspect and the brief had no obligation to tell him.

‘My name is Milan Nikolic,’ the man said. Karim wrote this down. ‘I came to this country from Serbia.’

‘Okay, Milan,’ Karim said. ‘And how long have you been here?’

‘Only a couple of days, I think. I do not know exactly.’

‘Did you enter the country illegally? Is that why you were reluctant to speak to my colleagues?’

Milan shook his head. ‘No, no. I mean, it is not why I would not speak.’

‘So you are here illegally?’

Milan nodded. Karim made a note to himself that this would have to be passed to the immigration services once they’d established whether or not any crime had been committed.

‘So why didn’t you want to cooperate with the officers who arrested you?’ Karim already knew from speaking with the arresting officers that the influence of Milan’s friend had likely been the main reason, but he wanted to hear it in Milan’s words.

‘We were worried,’ he said, before looking at his brief.

The solicitor simply nodded, but it seemed Milan had clammed up.

‘My client was concerned that he couldn’t trust the police if he were to tell them what had recently happened to him. In his homeland the police often have corruption issues, but I reassured him that this was not the case here and that he could feel entirely comfortable speaking with you.’

Karim nodded his thanks to the solicitor. It was extremely rare for a brief to be this frank and honest. More often than not, their focus was on protecting their client’s interests. Karim sensed that there must be a sense of working for the greater good, and that whatever Milan might be accused of was small fry compared to what he had to tell.

‘When we tried to come to this country, we came through Europe. We came to the Netherlands, to Rotterdam. We met a man who told us he could help us get to the UK easily. On a boat. He said he was involved with a business in the UK and that we could work for the business and have a place to stay. He said they were desperate for workers, because the English people don’t want to do the work.’

‘Did he say what sort of work it was?’ Karim asked.

Milan shook his head. ‘We asked, but he was…’ He looked at his solicitor.

‘Vague?’ Randall offered.

‘Yes. He said it was in hospitality. We thought maybe a hotel, or events or something. In Serbia, I have worked in restaurants.’

‘Do you know this man’s name?’ Karim asked.

Milan shook his head again. ‘It seems silly, but we did not ask. We just wanted to get to the UK and he gave us this chance to work.

‘Can you describe him?’

‘He had a beard. I think he was maybe Russian or something like this. A bald head. His jumper light brown, and was zipped up high around the neck. Jeans on his legs. That is all I can say.’

‘So he brought you to the UK on a boat? Can you describe it?’

‘Not very big, but bigger than I have been on before.’

‘Was it a ferry? A cargo ship?’

‘Small cargo ship.’

‘And who else was on this ship?’

‘Two other men. One was in charge, and the other was working there also.’

Karim got the impression there was more that Milan wanted to say, so he kept quiet and let him continue.

‘When we got to the UK, there was a van waiting. They said they were going to take us to where the business was. We got in, and a couple of hours later we arrived. It was a building in this town.’

‘Mildenheath?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you describe where?’

Milan shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. We were in the back of the van, so we could not see outside.’

‘What about from the park, where you were found? Could you trace your steps back to the building?’

‘I don’t think so. We ran a long way and different ways. I don’t even know which direction.’

‘Okay. Carry on.’

Milan swallowed. ‘When we got there, they took our things and we went through into our bedroom. It was okay. Two beds, a wash basin and somewhere to eat. After a couple of hours, a man came in to tell us about the work they wanted us to do. He said they had some very important customers and we could not tell people about them. He said we would be paid very well. He said the customers came there because they wanted things.’

‘What things?’ Karim asked, sensing that Milan was drying up.

Milan looked at his solicitor, who nodded gently to him.

Milan took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Different things. But that night my first customer came in, and after a while he wanted me to…’ Milan made a gesture with his hand and mouth.

Karim shuffled uncomfortably. ‘For the benefit of the recording, Mr Nikolic is making an oral s*x gesture. He wanted you to perform oral s*x on him?’

‘Yes,’ Milan said, almost on the verge of tears.

‘And did you?’

Milan nodded.

‘You’re nodding. Is that a yes?’

‘Yes. I did not want to, but I had no choice. He said he would pay extra money because he liked me. And I thought, we have no money. We have nowhere to go. We do not know where we are. And the man who told us about the work… He seemed… I don’t know. I think if I said no, we would be hurt.’

‘Did you feel threatened into performing this s*x act?’

Milan nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘And can you describe the customer who you had to perform the s*x act on?’

Karim could see that even bringing the man’s face back into his mind was troubling Milan. He recognised the pained look of anguish on his face, which he’d seen many times in victims of s****l assaults.

‘Tall. Thin. Grey hair. A moustache.’

‘How old would you say he was?’

Milan shrugged. ‘Sixty, maybe.’

‘And what was he wearing?’

‘A suit. Grey suit.’

‘With a tie?’

Milan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. Red, I think.’

‘And did your friend see this man too?’

Milan shrugged. ‘He told me he also had to do things. Not… Not the same, though.’

‘What things?’

‘With his hands.’

‘What do you mean? The man wanted m**********n?’

Milan nodded. ‘Yes.’

Karim stayed silent for a few moments before speaking.

‘Do you think your friend will talk to us? Will he want to make a statement too?’

Milan shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. He is afraid of the police. In Serbia, the police can be bad people.’

‘Do you want to tell us your friend’s name? We might be able to help him, too, but he’ll need to cooperate.’

Milan looked at his solicitor and took a deep breath before speaking.

‘His name is Zoran. Zoran Petrovic.’