December 7th
Chapter 7 — Shadows in Uniform
Kateryna kept her eyes low and her ears open.
That day, she watched everything. Accents gave away geography. Clothing suggested status. Calloused hands spoke of labour, while wedding bands told lies. She saw what men didn’t think they revealed.
With clients, she barely spoke. “No much English,” she mumbled, shrugging shyly. It made them careless. They talked freely, sometimes forgetting she was even there.
One answered a call mid-session. She caught the company name. Something about procurement contracts. She repeated it silently in her head until it stuck.
Another hung his work lanyard on the nightstand, dangling from the lamp like bait. She memorised the name, the logo, the staff ID.
There was the man with monogrammed gold cufflinks who made her say “thank you” after each slap. Her voice flat, his eyes gleaming with hatred.
An elderly punter who carried a worn Bible in his coat. He read scripture aloud before touching her with shaking hands. He cried afterwards. Asked if she thought God could forgive weakness.
One younger man, jittery and sweating, begged her not to tell his wife. “She wouldn’t understand,” he said, as if Kateryna did.
She nodded, face blank. But inside, she was filing it all away. Facts in neat rows. Truth sharpened to a blade.
That night, in the bathroom, the ritual continued.
Marta ran the tap while Tanya stood guard near the door. Kateryna leaned in, whispering what she’d learned. Names. Habits. Clues.
“I had a doctor,” Tanya said. “NHS badge clipped to his belt. Talked about funding cuts. Then tied me down and called it therapy.”
Marta pulled out a crumpled newspaper from beneath her robe, smoothed it on the counter. She jabbed her finger at a grainy photograph.
Kateryna’s stomach lurched. “I know him,” she said quietly. “Last week. Grey suit, navy tie. Scar on his chin. He liked… games.”
Marta nodded. “Roleplay?”
“He made me call him ‘sir.’ Said I had to comply.” She swallowed. “Said it helped him unwind.”
Tanya leaned over the paper. “What’s his name?”
“Superintendent James Fraser,” Marta replied grimly. “Just promoted. There’s a quote. Something about restoring public trust.”
Tanya’s jaw clenched. “I knew he was high up. But not that high.”
“Senior police,” Marta murmured. “This goes deeper than we thought.”
Kateryna stared at the page, Fraser’s smile frozen in ink. “They protect each other,” she said. “The ones in suits. The ones in uniforms. They cover their tracks. That’s how this place survives.”
There was silence, save for the sound of running water.
“We need to be careful,” Tanya whispered, glancing at the door.
Kateryna nodded. “No mistakes. No talking outside this room.”
They stayed there a moment longer. A trio of ghosts hiding in plain sight.
Later, despite her exhaustion, Kateryna struggled to sleep. She lay in the dark, eyes fixed on the stained ceiling as the list of names scrolled behind her eyes — voices, faces, fragments of stories.
Each one a weapon.
