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       I went back to Pornication while I prepared to sell up my shop to leave England indefinitely with the proceeds. I wanted to encourage girls I knew & liked & who I knew could do better to see the waste, the value of bodily integrity & find some other way to earn a living. It transpired that they did not have the option. That they were prisoners with no hope of release, allowed only the kind of human rights meted out by Mafia, who were their captors. Pornication was transmitted mainly from St. Petersburg Russia & a studio in Ontario Canada. 'benice' , the man keeping an eye on the chat was Mafia, and based in Canada, so I would expect most of the Canadian girls to be captive too. These days most on site are from Eastern Europe (Hungary, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Bulgaria, Romania). Speaking to outsiders in the hope of rescue would bring floggings, beatings, electrocution, & starvation. Persistence would result in the deaths of family members, their children, & ultimately their own. Also persistent 'trouble makers' are trafficked by a company called Alla escort to Japanese cities like Osaka & Tokyo. They can be found with a thorough & surprise search of 'Seventh heaven', or 'Private Eyes' / 'One-eyed Jack', where they might be dancing under guard, through the 'Miss Platinum' escort agency or at a hotel within easy walking distance, transfered under armed escort, where they will sleep & be prostituted. The deeper I dig for trafficking in Tokyo the more names are coming up, many operating in the Roppongi district of Tokyo, the problem we face here is integral & girls doubtless shuffled around. Japan is as I've said a punishment, I've heard one report of a girl denied water until she would drink dog urine & perform oral sex on the dog for internet porn. I found it at first surprising that it was possible to contain captives in a hotel, but it is common even across the EU to see slaves in hotels & even on the streets, apparantly free to go if they wished. This is not the case. As you'll read here there is a system can be used which can almost totaly prevent anyone running without being followed, and being followed would almost certainly result in a stabbing. I hear the main reason the seemingly free comply, is that their families back home, in lawless countries will be killed if they go. The girls I have been dealing with are locked away & kept under guard, because being victims of such extreme human rights abuses they would run at any opportunity. The image to the left is one such girl who has lost her family one by one for resistance Veranika Akimova.

                I was weary when I arrived, but couldn't wait until the next day before I saw the address Id come to see. When I got there I stood at the front of an old, partly stone building on a corner (No.30), it had double doors and keypad entry. I stood there feeling as if I was in the correct place, but NaStudio was around the corner. What I didn't know at the time was that I was stood at a building housing girls that I'd been in contact with. I went to the multistory building identified as NaStudio by a small plaque at one of its two entrances. It appeared to be closed. Enough for one day.


Over the next few days I did walk-bys. First I went from southern end of Vishnevskogo to north. I noticed a character stood at the southern end, he looked as if he was up to no good. I went past the NaStudio forecourt & as I approached the first building I had visited when I arrived the one with the stone features on the corner (No.30) a man in his early twenties with goatee beard came & stood opposite it, leant on the railings of the Karpovka river which flowed by, & smiled up at a window. A girl came out of the building & met him. They both headed past me towards NaStudio walking slowly in conversation. The man looked cheerful, the girl deeply depressed. I thought the reason for the drawn out walk could well be that it was the only opportunity the girl ever got to be outside.


        Next I decided to go in, in faith that I'd be all right. I walked into the left hand entrance. It led to a reception area to my left, an office ahead, & a stairway leading upward between. I smiled at the reception girl 'NaStudio?' I said. She said something in Russian, I asked if she spoke English. She motioned that she couldn't understand what I was saying. To me she looked scared, perhaps I did, & it was a reaction to that, I don't know, I didn't think I had. A man came down from the stairway looking surprised and interested. I could've tried speaking to him, but I didn't like the look of him very much. It was about 8pm when I tried the other entrance. It was Keypad entry with intercom. I spoke into the intercom to a mature sounding lady who again didn't speak English, she seemed to find our exchange amusing. After a minute or two a man in a suit walked up to the door. I asked him if he spoke English. "Yes" he replied politely, to my relief. I said I wanted to spend some time with a girl. "Sure", he said, "what flat number?" I told him I didn't know which flat, I gave him the real name of one of the girls from Pornication. "OK" he says, then craned his neck forward to see what my carrier bag contained. I opened it up obligingly. The plan was to escape with a girl using a concealed weapon, one who I could identify as a captive. He typed a number into the keypad & led the way in.


        Inside were a lift & a staircase which led up. We took the stairs a short way up, past flats with thick metal security doors of a standard you'd expect to see on a large safe, until we arrived at one with a spy hole. He made a call on his mobile phone & the door was opened by a man shorter than myself, but broad & powerful looking. Shirt off, he resembled a medieval jailer. Unlike the man in the suit, he didn't look friendly at all. The suited man went inside asking me to wait where I was. Some time went by and I became jittery I went out to a shop around the corner to get some beer. I don't know how I thought I'd get back in, but as I arrived back at the door a young girl was approaching it ahead of me. The door swung closed very slowly, & I reached it & went back to where I'd been waiting. It seemed that some were arriving of their free will. I supposed that's likely how it would begin (that turned out to sometimes be the case, although I found this site luring those interested in learning Indian sexual massage techniques). I knocked on the jailer's door. He opened looking at me in an aggressive fashion, standing deliberately beyond my reach, & poised to slam the thick door quickly should the need arise. I asked if he had a bottle opener. "Net", he said bluntly, then closed the door. I was later to be told that this is the man whose job it was to flog the girls if they were caught speaking of their captivity to outsiders. The suited man emerged cheerfully, I offered him one of my beers, but he declined & pleasantly said goodbye. I waited there for three hours before I finally accepted I wasn't going to be allowed to see anyone & went back to my hotel. While I'd been waiting, on the half hour I could hear the entrance door open, and a male & female would enter chatting, this happened three or four times. They would get into the lift & travel to the floors high above.


        I did some walking past & some hanging around, but I was unable to see any further girl transfers. One evening I sat where they would pass with a bottle of beer & the hood of my coat up, but they had me moved on by a policeman, who then went inside to speak to them. Another evening I went a short distance into an alley from where it was possible to see the entrance to NaStudio, there was someone skulking in the darkness so I went out. I went up this alleyway a different evening, this time it was empty. I looked around a bit in the courtyard it led to. A weedy looking young man came in after me laughably trying to intimidate. Another evening I walked around the rear alley of NaStudio to have a look around. The man I'd seen hanging around on the first day appeared at the alley entrance protesting at my presence there, I went up to speak to him but he'd hid somewhere or skulked off. I moved to a cheaper hotel a short walk from NaStudio. It was opposite a police headquarters, there were twenty to thirty police cars parked outside. That's handy, I thought.


        Beyond the Karpovka river, on the other side of the street was a derelict building (No.39). I gained access to it via some kind of delivery hatch at its rear, into a basement. I crept slowly up its staircase, there was a light on a couple of floors above. I moved up slowly & quietly. When I got to the light It was a bare bulb in the stairway, as I'd thought, just on to deter would-be intruders. There was a table & chair there. On the table was a syringe in a plastic container which contained engine oil. Leaning against double doors was a shovel. The message bold enough, if we catch you sleeping in here we'll inject you with oil & bury you. No prizes for guessing who owned this building. I went over rubble to the top floor with an excellent view of the street with the old corner building. It was a very good vantage point. I watched all evening and into the early hours. Every half hour on the half hour lookouts would appear in the streets & alleyways below. A man would arrive & look up at the window, of the corner building, as I'd seen before. Then either a girl would be sent out to them, or they would leave after about five minutes. They were being led to & from NaStudio, & between the other large buildings within view (No.s 26, 30 & 32).


        They seemed to own the whole area. Sometimes a man or large woman with a dog would be sent across the street first. I later learned that the dog was supposed to be trained to stop them running. I thought that must be a bluff, the dogs looked too old & soppy to me. The mood of transfer was no longer relaxed, the escort was running ahead far enough to turn the key to the lock & open the door at the arrival of the girl. Reducing time on the street by a few moments. An ambulance showed up at the corner building which seemed to drop someone off or take someone on board, I couldn't see because it was obscuring the doorway. I'd see this ambulance again in Vishnevskoko ul. overlooking transfer another evening. I wished I had a van, I could leap out & drive off with one of them. I had some money but I had no clue where to purchase a van, things were done very differently in Russia to England, nobody spoke English away from the touristy areas. I thought I might move into this building, however I was somehow spotted from a window opposite on the first night. This was surprising because I was looking through two panes of dirty glass with no light on & they were some distance away. I was bored waiting for activity in the street below & was scanning the rooms for clues to whether this building was involved. In a window directly opposite mine (No.28) there was an amused looking man, & behind him a horrified looking woman. I guessed they'd thought they'd caught a pervert. Time to go.


        I returned to the derelict building the next day. I climbed through the hatch, a little concerned that the lid which stayed up well with its rusted hinges before was now moving very freely. Also a curtain had twitched at a nearby flat as I'd made my way through the broken fence. I wasn't happy with the way things were going. Once I was inside I heard a loudish noise from upstairs. I thought to myself that I'd been there for hours the previous evening & hadn't heard a thing. It seemed to me somebody hearing my entrance was trying to avoid a confrontation by scaring me off. I left & didn't go back there again. It seemed then that the man who saw me at the window that night mentioned it to Mafia, meaning another huge building almost certainly belonged to them, it was looking like the whole block & beyond. I went to the rear of one of the smaller buildings involved (No.32) to where I'd seen a girl I knew being taken. There was a doorway which I pulled open. Inside was the fuse box and electrical main switch. I planned to return & sabotage the electrics. I returned that night to find one of their puny lookouts inside, who awoke when I opened the door. I smiled & said hello, he sat up bleary eyed. I closed the door & went. Another evening I was in the darkness of the alley which overlooked NaStudio entrance when a middle aged man in a woolly hat saw me. I'd seen this man before overseeing girl transfer with the dogs & at the NaStudio entrance. He was facing me, he began to use his mobile phone & looked up at the window of the room where I'd met the jailer, who wasn't answering, to woolly hat's frustration. I Went home.


        The next evening I was pretty demoralised. It just wasn't coming together. If I was in the street anywhere near the place they wouldn't bring anyone out. I'd only managed to see a girl I recognised once. I knew I couldn't go back there the next evening, so about the time I'd usually leave I went instead to the front of the hotel with a bottle of my favourite Russian beer 'Stepan Razin'. It was a lovely evening. Instead of walking on as I usually would when I came out of the entrance, I turned & sat on a wall. As I turned I saw an adrenaline rushed man come light footed from the side of the hotel in my direction. He had both his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, & was tense. He stopped in his tracks about four or five meters away as soon as I saw him, quickly turning his head to one side avoiding eye contact. It was very obvious he was going to knife me from behind had I not turned. It looked as though he was clutching knives tightly in both hands inside the pockets of his 3/4 length black leather coat. This seemed the standard item of clothing for Russian men, as long boots were for the women. I wondered if part reason was that it's difficult to stab through leather. I had the bottle in my hand. He didn't look up as I half circled him back into the hotel. This was my first experience of an Assassin, the first of many I'd see, who like this one would generally completely lose interest when they couldn't sneak up on me. Assassins to me are the biggest cowards with the coldest hearts. I was very surprised that he was going to do what he was doing with a police headquarters overlooking the scene. It shows just how bad corruption is in the area, that he felt he'd get away with it anyway. They'd prove very much more cautious when I left Russia. Next day I was met out front safely by a cab & moved to another hotel.        

Tallinn Estonia

         I'd seen the corruption problem in Russia first hand, I'd been there just 3 weeks but had twice been robbed by police. I'd been told that jobs in politics and security attracted people who knew there was money in bribery & wanted to be a part of it. What usualy happens is that they tolerate organised crime through greed & fear. Having visited the offices of a major Moscow newspaper, (where I'd heard there was a brave reporter who was famously persecuted for publicly declaring the corruption of the Ministry of the Interior) & had the promise of a letter passed to a governor I left the country for Tallinn, happy that things were turning out OK. Although a nice place I became bored waiting for good news. With finances also dwindling & knowing returning to NaStudio would achieve nothing, I started walking south. I'd stop at Internet cafes along my way to do some sly talking in the Yahoo! chat rooms with captives that I knew. I'd do it once & then be on my way for a week. Doing that used to draw the attention of those monitoring then I'd be gone so that there was nothing for them to see. A few months down the road I became concerned that investigation into NaStudio appeared to be going rather slowly. I Sent an email to President Putin, & wrote a letter that I would post once I was over the border with Poland, so I wouldn't be intercepted by Mafia approaching a crossing point, I'd change direction a bit when I was across. That'll get things moving I thought. The Yahoo! chat rooms had become full of Mafia pretending to be girls I knew, with female chat names & using phrases similar to ones used by the girls, they were asking me where I was, trying to find common ground for chat from information gathered from friends. They were obvious, they would come to me in a girl's clothes & expect me to kiss them. ICQ chat was full of impostors too, although I'd never used it before. I could see that my girls were also there performing their spamming duties. The enemy would also be in the Christian Yahoo! rooms raking for me.

Poland

                I stopped off at a town with Internet access & did some preparation for renewed assault on NaStudio. I found contact details for about 1000 attendees from around the world of an anti trafficking conference. Since so many countries were listed on the 2257 document, I would write to all of them asking them to help if they could. I worked out that at the current rate of disinterest, if I wrote to 1000 at least 20 people would reply eager to help. I had written to very many organisations & received only a few replies, but as it turned out they were processing the information, passing it on. They should have replied though I thought. How was I supposed to overcome a failure if I wasn't kept informed of what had & hadn't been done? I logged into Yahoo! chat and spoke with captives half leaving email in my account to be read, and half making comments in the chat room in pleasingly fluid yet cryptic conversation. I was told not to do it because word of such a mass mailing would cause retribution. I was later to find out that the next day one of the girls had been stabbed trying to make a run for it. The cut was clean however, and she made a recovery. I was right about the dog, it didn't do anything.

Warsaw

                I arrived in Warsaw 5th Nov 2004. I found an Internet cafe in a shopping centre not too far from my hotel & was happily sending email to the girls in Russia for a couple of days. One day as I descended the Escalator to the Internet/centre toilets/car park entrance area, two men at a single computer stood out. They looked Russian, dull worn black clothing, 3/4 length black leather jacket on one of them, generally looking as if they'd no money, no western style to their hair. It was unusual to see them here, so I took a look at their computer screen as I passed by. They were using Yahoo! chat. One looked totally spooked about something, the other who was doing the typing looked shifty, & familiar. I gave them a warm smile as I drew their attention, booked in for an hour, & sat down at a computer. The shifty guy got up, spoke to the girl at the counter, & then he & his companion left. He returned my smile in the reflection of my computer screen as he passed by. What had he said to the girl? it was prepay, use & leave. I logged into my my mailbox, it was empty, I was used to having a reply waiting for me. What was wrong? . I realised who the shifty one was, & my stomach turned. I knew those narrowed eyes. It was my would-be assailant from outside the St. Petersburg hotel.


        As I traveled back to my hotel I passed two others. Both had a young male in the street eyes fixed on the hotel entrance. This caused me concern. When I arrived at my hotel there was a group of young lads hanging around a short distance from the entrance, showing far too much interest in me. I got inside & immediately shaved off my beard. I had to go out, get to an Internet cafe in town, & warn the girls that I knew we'd been rumbled. I put on my other coat & went out, the group of lads had gone, great! No, there they were, in the next street. One of them looked, then quickly turned his head & held the gaze of one of his companions, neither said anything. I passed them. I found an Internet cafe I hadn't used before & I sent a mail in purple, which meant trouble, & 'write to me now & then!' in red, which meant 'no'. I logged into Yahoo! chat. There was a warning there for me, the chat name 'Midnight tears', a reference to my former chat name 'Midnight express', it was subtle as always, necessarily, but in the light of what was happening it was clear. I sent another mail that I'd about done shopping & that I was at the train station. Both statements true, but I wasn't going anywhere. I didn't go back to my hotel that night. I remembered That in St. Petersburg the guy had only hung around outside the hotel one day. I returned to the hotel in the early daylight hours of Sunday morning. I was sure nobody was watching. Inside I went to sleep, & didn't leave the Hotel that day.


        When the time came I went to another Internet cafe in the city, one which was difficult to observe, it was beneath ground among the tunnels, & there were security men thick on the ground, who looked as if they had a keen eye for suspicious circumstances. I went to my mailbox to find many more messages than I was used to, & the coding was revised which was suspicious because I'd not so long ago got annoyed with them for the complexity & frequent revision of the code, which would take hours to decipher & often not make sense when put through Russian to English translation software. If they were caught they'd surely force them to reveal what It said anyway. I would need to visit a guest book site to retrieve the new. Also there were lots of Emails attempting to tempt me to follow links. I took them as attempts to obtain my IP address. One I had no reason to disbelieve said that the sender had been made an example of. Another read that one had been severely electrocuted, probably with a tazer of some kind. I felt foolish for my too obvious 'I'm outta here' response to warning.


        I later went back into town. The British consulate was safest. That wouldn't be watched. It would normally have been closed by this time, but there was some kind of meeting going on upstairs, & young people were leaving in twos and threes. I went in past them, all the public PCs downstairs were off, and the lights out. I went up the stairs in the direction the people were coming from & found a public computer which was on, but had no Internet access. Nearby was an open plan office. I went in & sat at a desk. The staff computers had been left on, just the monitors were off. I sent an email to say that I was still in town, that I had run short of money & was waiting for someone to put some into my account before I left. I hoped this would cheer up my pursuers, & cause them to leave my friends alone. The security guard came by a couple of times looking at me in an odd way, but didn't say anything.


        No problems back at the hotel. The staff didn't speak English, but I managed to inform them that they should not tell anyone I was there. One day I passed by the entrance to the shopping centre with the Internet cafe where I had seen the Russian Assassin & picked up an obvious tail. A young man who reacted to my approach began to follow me up the street. I watched him first in the reflection of a car window, then in a shop window. His eyes were on me all the time. I pretended to see something interesting in a shop window & stopped. He had to keep walking & passed me. I could see he was itching to stop or turn around as he moved slowly and uncomfortably on, but he couldn't without looking very obvious indeed. While he was facing away from me I headed back the way I came among the people & around the corner. I passed the entrance again. There were two tramps stood opposite it. One pointed a finger & asked a question of some kind in an accusing manner. I shook my head & frowned at him moving on. I didn't want to speak that they'd know I was English.