CHAPTER 1

 

"Now you can forget about politics, government policies and business, just have a good holiday and get a good suntan, Mrs Franklin. The security guys are happy not to accompany you if you stick to your itinerary."

"Good. Take care of things whilst we're away. The place could probably do with a bit of a tidy - I've been rather too busy of late I'm afraid," Carol waved goodbye breezily to Nancy, their secretary. She watched through the taxi window as the efficient looking girl wearing a pin-stripe suit stood at the door of their plush house, waving back with an almost relieved smile until they drew out of the long drive and into the London traffic. Well, if Nancy thought she was going to have too easy a time of it whilst they were away, she had another think coming, Carol decided. She'd make sure she earned her keep by texting her a few chores to keep her busy. But then she thought of her own happiness.

"We're on our way at last darling," she gave Fredrick's arm a squeeze and smiled happily at Lucy and Michael, their two teenage children.

Although it was great living the good life with the trappings of power, it would be equally good to escape life as the wife of a junior Minister in the newly elected British Government. She and her husband had been campaigning seemingly forever, but now the election had been won, and they had a week to relax. And soon, if Fredrick became a full cabinet Minister, his workload would become even heavier. Still, she thought, Nancy was there to help them cope. But Carol often helped him prepare his speeches, and now with his new responsibilities, she anticipated having less time on her part-time job as a newspaper columnist.

But she put such dreary thoughts aside and became engrossed in her magazine as the traffic gradually thinned out on their journey towards the small airport in Kent to board their charter flight to Portugal. As Fredrick was still only a fairly junior politician, and as yet had to make any big policies and thus gain potential enemies, it hadn't been too hard to persuade the security services that they didn't need any police minders tagging along. They were free to relax and enjoy themselves.

 

 

This was the height of decadent luxury, thought Carol as she relaxed into the large soft seat of the compact Lear jet. Fredrick had arranged it through one of his contacts, an influential Western-leaning Korean businessman with whom he had recent dealings as they established a policy to deal with North Korea. There had been only a minor hitch when the original flight crew went sick, but the replacements seemed very efficient. Their family were the only passengers on board for the attentive Oriental cabin crew to serve.

Bang!

Carol jumped in her seat as the door from the crew area practically burst open.

"No-one move, all remain in seats. No talking," shouted the masked man who emerged, pushing one of the cabin crew ahead of him, hands raised.

"What the hell...?"

"No talk, no move or people get hurt, we have bombs," the man pushed the stewardess ahead of him. "This plane has enough fuel to reach North Korea and that where we go."

"North Kor'... but why? Do you know who I am? I demand..."

"Shut up, I no tell you again," the man interrupted Fredrick. His masked face was inches away as he held the stewardess in a painful arm-lock, contorting her small body. "We no care who you are, we just happy to blow up plane if our orders no obeyed - but OK for now - pilot has agreed to fly to Korea. My friend sitting beside him, other crew tied up. He will destroy plane if pilot, crew or passengers no do exactly as told; we happy to die. When we land in Korea - we leave you unhurt. Now, one at a time pass hand luggage," he pushed the stewardess into a seat and secured her wrists behind her with cuffs.

"Ok just do as they say," Carol urged her husband. "We have to go along with it. They'll sort it out that end and we'll be on our way before long," Carol sounded more confident than she felt for the sake of her children. She recalled some of the speeches she had helped her husband with, quite derogatory to North Korea. She also remembered her newspaper articles. But hopefully the people at whichever North Korean airport they landed wouldn't be aware of that. And anyway, the things they had said were only what had been passed to them by their Korean contacts.

It was annoying and frustrating to have the contents of her hand luggage and handbag dumped. All of their mobile phones were confiscated and thus went any chance of them alerting anyone.

"One at a time in aisle, stand hands on head for searching."

This was worse, more personal. Fredrick stood there whilst the man fumbled through his trousers and jacket, emptying everything before he, too, had his wrists cuffed behind him. Then they turned to her.

"I've nothing on me I..."

"Stand in aisle - now," the masked man's voice interrupted, now growing louder and another masked figure joined him, squeezing his hands around the throat of the stewardess, making her choke. "Hurry now or she get hurt," this hijacker spoke in a female accent but it made no difference to her fear.

"Please..." Carol's protest was ignored as she stood with raised hands like a prisoner as the brute's rough hands slid over her body, impudently squeezing her breasts and patting her bottom, pushing up into the apex of her thighs. She felt dirty, soiled as she tucked her blouse back in her skirt. "Ouch, careful," she cried as her wrists were then roughly pulled behind her, and she felt the sharp bite of plastic ties tightly securing her wrists behind her.

She stood helplessly as the brute similarly frisked Michael and Lucy before binding them too.

The window blinds were pulled down and the cabin lights turned on, to bathe them in harsh light as the plane droned on. Each of them were sat in separate seats and forbidden to talk.

 

 

"Please can you untie my hands? I need a toilet," Carol asked. It was two hours later, and such was her fear Carol could no longer ignore her need to empty her bladder, even though she just wanted to sink unobtrusively into the seat.

"I take," the masked female grabbed her arm, hustling her up the aisle.

"Please, you'll need to undo my hands so... ooh," Carol tried to shrink away as the girl pushed her into the small loo and without warning tugged up her skirt and pulled down her tiny black panties, then roughly pushed her down onto the cold seat.

"You stay bound. Just go, I be outside," she retreated but left the door open, watching.

It was so degrading for Carol to perform like that.

"Hurry up I no got all day. I take you back to seat otherwise," the girl was growing impatient.

It took her several squeezes and much deep breathing before her coiled bladder eventually released its grip in hissing relief and shame. She tried to keep the noise down and ignore the girl so obviously smirking under her mask.

"Good girl. I wipe," the girl spoke as if to a child rather than a grown woman of 34.

"I can do it thanks," Carol was indignant as she somehow managed with her wrists still bound behind her but having to shamefully allow the girl to finish adjusting her clothing.

Carol's felt so powerless and without control, and indeed she was. Her face was beetroot red as she was led back to her seat. And she cringed when eventually Fredrick and the children were also taken to the loo. At least they were allowed to drink from water bottles, but again their helplessness was emphasised as their captors kept them bound and held the bottles to their lips.

"Hey, no, please, why...?" Carol squirmed and struggled, as without warning smelly sacks were tugged over their heads to remove their sight and complete their helplessness.

"Don't struggle or you get hurt, keep quiet and still." The orders were curt.

Gradually, Carol managed to control her panic and pounding heart. Her world was now confined to a dirty brown sack, which sharply tickled her flushed face. She was now absolutely cut off from the others, trapped in a world of her own under the impenetrable material, absolutely at the mercy of the hijackers. They could be pointing guns at them right now, and she would have no way of knowing. They might take Fredrick or the children away, do anything to them - she wouldn't even know. But did it make any difference, she thought gloomily, once again tensing her wrists against the painful grip of the plastic biting into them. She was as helpless as a baby; these bastards could do just whatever they liked to any of them.

 

 

The journey from the plane had been a nightmare of fear and uncertainty for Carol and her family. Still bound and hooded, they had heard the hijackers leave and then they had been led blindly off the plane and into what felt like a van. There was grass under her feet, not like a major airport. Faintly, above the sound of the plane's engines, she heard harsh Oriental voices and guessed they were on a small Korean airstrip.

"Look, let us go we're English citizens, I'm a UK Government Minister, we're innocent victims of the hijackers," Carol heard Fredrick's muffled pleas under his hood and was at least relieved that they all seemed to be OK.

"No talk! None at all or you get hurt." That was the only response other than the hands pushing them onto hard wooden seats with more brutality. Then the van door clanged shut, and they were driven away. With her wrists tightly bound behind her, it took all of her strength to hold onto the bouncing seat to hold herself approximately upright for the journey, which Carol estimated lasted a couple of uncomfortable hours. At the end of it, her hands and bottom were numb.

 

 

It was with some relief that their hoods were removed, and although their hands were still cuffed behind them, they were all still together and safe. Carol was surprised to see the stewardess was a prisoner beside them. Carol was able to once again give her family what she hoped was a reassuring smile. And being able to see made their descent from the van that much easier. The stewardess looked equally terrified as she was taken along with them.

"What's going on? Please, look, we were hijacked and brought to Korea against our will; we need to be released so I can talk to the British Consul. The stewardess here knows what happened and ...ooof," Fredrick collapsed, winded, as a fist sunk into his unprotected belly, interrupting his protests.

"You no worry about how you got here, just know you entered country illegally and now prisoners of glorious Korean state," the leader of the guards shouted at them. He was a short, thickset man with a brown leather gun holster belted over his drab green uniform. He obviously had his orders and would obey them.

Carol gulped in horror at the grim surroundings in which she found herself. A high iron fence surrounded a large compound containing a large unwelcoming brick building. Her high heels scrunching on gravel, she was hustled round the corner to a small side door. It bore the insignia 'North Korean Correctional Facility' on a new brass nameplate. She saw this before being shoved inside and the outer door locked behind them with a depressing crash.

In addition to her stomach curdling terror of being helpless and kidnapped was the additional torment of her captors belonging to the country she and her husband had publicly vilified. She cringed at the thought of some of the television interviews her husband had given and her own newspaper articles, lambasting the North Korean regime. If these people had seen them ... She shuddered in dread.

 

 

It was cold and Carol shivered, her breath clouding before her as she, Fredrick, Lucy and Mike stood before a large wooden desk, behind which a small Korean man in the same dark green uniform sat. They had been led down a narrow flight of stairs, stumbling dangerously with their hands secured behind them, and along another low corridor until they reached this dank and gloomy alcove annex. Thankfully, their wrists had finally been freed and they gratefully rubbed circulation back into their stinging hands.

"Prisoners will remove watches, jewellery, shoes and socks."

"Look what is this?" Fredrick tried again in a calmer voice. "Do you know who I am? I am an English Government Minister; this is my wife and family. The hijackers took our passports but you can check. I demand to be released."

As he spoke, the stewardess started to back towards the door, trying to reach it.

"Shoot her," the seated guard ordered.

"Noooooo," Carol screamed covering her ears as the noise of the shot continued to ricochet around the room. She then pulled her children closer to her, shielding their eyes as two other guards carried out the inert body of the small woman which was now covered in a spreading red stain.

"Oh my...." Carol couldn't find words, she felt sick and frightened at what these people could do.

"Please, this is barbaric, ridiculous we are not prisoners, we... haaaahhh," Fredrick's outrage turned to a howl of pain as a baton drove into his kidney.

"Leave him you brute we are innocent ... aaah," Carol gasped as the guard behind cracked his baton across her back.

"You can't treat my Mother...ooofff," Michael gasped as the guard's fist doubled him up, winding him.

"You-you killed that woman...." young Lucy lapsed into silence as a guard raised his baton threateningly.

"Silence! Prisoners do not talk." The guard surveyed his captives looking at them with bleak and pained eyes. "We know exactly who you are, we see your broadcasts, read your articles. You and wife both enemy of Korea."

"But I'm an English politician! You cannot expect to get away with... to simply..."

"Mr Franklin, just obey or you, and whole family, will be punished too," the guard swung his baton menacingly to and fro. "Your wife and children they not like I assure you. Then we will simply remove clothing for you ourselves. You must learn fast how we treat enemies or you maybe end up like our stewardess friend. You will be questioned later, you have chance to speak then."

It felt so unnatural to stand shivering in her light summer frock and blouse, barefoot, Lucy and Mike similarly attired, their breath steaming in the air. It was such a far cry from the anticipated heat and gaiety of Portugal, but at least they were still alive, Carol thought to herself with another shudder. She hugged herself, teeth chattering, her bare feet shifting on the cold stone floor as the guard behind the desk ponderously noted the clothing and luggage he had confiscated.

"Take prisoners to cells."

 

 

"If this red dye doesn't wash off, I be putting in for new shirt and suit." In the outer room, the stewardess was delicately peeling off her jacket and shirt, now both literally dripping with imitation blood.

"No problem, although it look like blood, it designed not to stain," the guard who had helped carry her out assured her. "Anyway, we all getting well paid for this job and now your part done and done well eh. You have no problems my friend, just relax here out of sight until it finished, help prepare food and things."