CHERUB: People's Republic

CHERUB: People's Republic by Robert Muchamore Page B

Book: CHERUB: People's Republic by Robert Muchamore Read Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Muchamore
masqueraded as an honest character, his fabulous lifestyle was underpinned by a brutal smuggling racket. According to official documents and evidence gathered by the Star’s investigative team, Fu’s organization was responsible for smuggling over eighty women and girls per week across the Yalu River from North Korea. These included children as young as seven years old.
    Officials believe that fifty thousand females were smuggled over the past eighteen years, and some evidence suggests that the actual number could even reach six figures. Smuggling on this scale was only possible with the support from corrupt officials on both sides of the border.
    Police say further arrests are possible in the coming days and have published a list of Fu’s associates who are wanted for questioning.
    Fu’s victims were desperate to leave North Korea, where jobs are scarce and food in short supply. Many paid hundreds of yuan to be smuggled into China, where they were promised jobs in factories, but Fu’s organization targeted only females who were youthful and physically attractive.
    Some of Fu’s victims were passed on to gangsters and forced to work as prostitutes in brothels all over China. Women who refused to submit were beaten, sexually abused or injected with drugs to make them subservient.
    But most victims of the evil slave master were taken far from China and forced to sell their bodies for sex with Western men, or even Africans. In cities such as London, Paris or Los Angeles, Fu’s associates were able to sell North Korean women to brothel owners for up to one million yuan.
    In the most depraved cases of all, it is believed that wealthy paedophiles in the United States purchased North Korean boys and girls in return for half a million dollars (3.5 million yuan). Authorities in the United States have begun an investigation into several individuals, based upon a dossier of evidence given to them by the North East China Star.
    Story continues, page 2–3
     
    More on the Slave Master inside
    Full list of arrests and wanted suspects, page 3.
    Star Editorial – Fu Chaoxiang must face death penalty, page 6.
    One of Fu’s victims speaks out – My four years of hell as Amsterdam sex slave, page 4–5.
     
    Ning felt like she’d been smashed in the face with a brick. Part of her wanted to read on, but she could barely see through the tears welling in her eyes. If the article was true, the man who’d clutched her to his chest on water slides, bought her presents, flown to Chongqing to watch her box and cried when she lost on a split decision, was an evil criminal.
    At the top of page three the number for the Dandong police hotline was printed in giant red text. Below it was a bank of small head shots. If you see these people call immediately .
    The pictures were arranged in order of importance, and each one had a caption. In the top row were two communist party officials, listed as missing. Ingrid was in the third row: Fu’s wife, wanted for questioning . Ning reckoned Ingrid would be a higher priority by now, because they’d have found the two dead cops. Wei’s picture was at the bottom of the page and he was described as a henchman rather than a driver.
    The next spread was dominated by a victim’s story. A battered-looking woman of thirty with a sombre expression and a half-European baby in her arms. Ning couldn’t bear to read on. She abandoned the drink and burger, folded the two newspapers under her arm and stormed back to confront Ingrid.
    She was still snoring, enveloped in sweaty bedding and vodka fumes. Ning furiously opened the small cabinet between the two double beds. She grabbed the gun Ingrid had put there in case the cops showed up, then reached under the covers and pinched Ingrid’s nostrils.
    ‘Is it true?’ Ning shouted, stepping back from the bed with the loaded pistol aimed at Ingrid’s head.
    Ingrid rubbed her palm across her face, hung over and barely aware of the shout or gun.
    ‘What’s up,

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