The so called "Eastern route", running through Poland and into Germany has become a key corridor for the traffic of people into the EU from Russia, Ukraine, Romania and the Baltics. From the Caucus and Central Asian republics, women are moved to the Middle East and China. Many of these groups are carefully structured so that, in case of discovery, only small units are exposed. Along the way are money launderers, enforcers, debt collectors, corrupt police officials, guides, the crews of ships and recruiters. 

It was in the early 2000s that NGOs working with asylum seekers in the UK began to notice a new phenomenon. Many Roma — Czechs, Slovaks and Hungarians — had been reaching Britain to ask for asylum from persecution at home. Most were denied leave to remain and returned to their own countries. But soon they were back. As the EU expanded and new nations joined, so the Roma-now permitted to travel legally to the UK to work — began to set up networks of their own, recruiting unemployed and gullible men and women from villages across Central and Eastern Europe with promises of good jobs and high wages in the UK. What these people found instead was intimidation and exploitation.

Peter is Hungarian, a slight, tentative man with watery eyes and courteous, old-world manners. His straight black hair, thinning a little, is parted in the middle and carefully combed. In greeting, he bows. After finishing secondary school in 1969 in his hometown near Lake Beloton, Peter became a lorry driver for a milk company. He married in 1975 and had three children. In 1990, he went to work for a Roma family, collecting scrap metal from nearby villages. "I even travelled abroad sometimes," he says. "I made good money."

But then Peter's wife left him for his best friend, taking the children with her. He moved out of his house and into a rented room. When a Roma man told him that he could find him work in Britain, painting a picture of high wages and a fine house of his own, Peter listened. "The Roma are very persuasive — and after all, what life did I have left at home?"

In spring 2005, Peter was driven to Britain, together with two other Hungarians in search of new lives. He paid nothing for the journey and never saw his passport. As he spoke only Hungarian, he had little idea where he was, and in any case could not read the signposts. It turned out that he was bound for Huddersfield, in South Yorkshire. And there was indeed a job for him, packing bananas for £5.70 an hour. It was good money and Peter was delighted. It even made up for the squalor and discomfort of his accommodation, sharing a small flat with five other men. It made him feel that his ruined life might still be redeemed.

The money failed, however, to reach him. His recruiter opened an account in Peter's name at a local bank, but held on to the bankcard and cheque book. The £230 he earned each week went straight into the account, only to be withdrawn by the recruiter, who told Peter that he owed it, in travel costs, living expenses and the money that went to getting his passport. "I thought of going to the police but I felt trapped. One day, I did escape, but they caught me and beat me. I am not a brave man."