The Taken

by Casey Kelleher

  ‘I’ll go and find out what’s happening.’ Sensing Vincent’s mood, Misty stood up. Holding the blood-soaked tissue to the cut above her eye, her head was already pounding, and the last thing she needed was to sit and listen to Vincent harping on for another bleeding hour.

  ‘No, no. You sit down. I’ll go!’ Saskia jumped up from where she was sitting now, desperate to make herself useful. Misty had taken a real pounding tonight. She looked awful. Her hair was sticking out in clumps where that arsehole had grabbed her, and she had a thick smear of congealed blood down her cheek. ‘You shouldn’t be walking about. Sit down. I’ll go and find someone.’

  Misty laughed then.

  ‘I haven’t had my legs amputated darlin’, I’ve had a bang to my head. A little cut. It’s an occupational hazard. I’m fine,’ Misty insisted. Then nodding over towards Vincent she whispered, ‘besides, I could do with a few minutes of peace – old moany bollocks here is going to be the death of me.’

  Sitting back down, Saskia watched as Misty made her way over towards the receptionist’s desk, surprised at how well the girl was holding herself together. The attack had seemed to affect her more than it had Misty. For all the glitz and glamour that Harper’s Palace appeared to be, the attack tonight was a stark lesson of just how vulnerable the dancers really were.

  She’d been lucky – she’d only got a thump – but that man could have killed Misty the way he’d continuously hit her head off the bar like that.

  The club had security, but it had taken too long for anyone to notice what had happened. So much for the place being safe.

  Jumping to his feet next to her, Vincent started bellowing, interrupting Saskia’s thoughts.

  ‘Oi! You dirty fucking cunt. Get the fuck out of here.’ Towering over the elderly man sitting opposite them, Vincent was seething. His face was puce. His fists locked at his side. He looked like he was going to attack the man.

  Saskia had no idea what the old boy had done to antagonise Vincent, but Vincent was making a spectacle of himself. Everyone was staring at them now.

  ‘I said get the fuck out of here, go on… ’

  Standing up, confused, Saskia tried to step in between Vincent and the older man.

  ‘He’s about ninety Vincent, leave it… he’s not doing any harm?’

  The old boy had done nothing but shoot her affable smiles since they’d got there; he didn’t look capable of harming a fly.

  ‘Have a fucking laugh!’ Vincent turned to Saskia and shook his head. This girl clearly had a lot to learn. ‘This dirty bastard is only having a fiddle with himself under his coat while he’s sat there gawping over at you.’

  Horrified, and suddenly self-conscious, Saskia wrapped her jacket tighter and looked over at the old man, suspiciously. Vincent was right. She could see his hand on his crotch. His coat resting loosely over him trying to conceal what he’d been doing.

  ‘Eww, you filthy bastard.’ Saskia recoiled now.

  ‘You heard me, you fucking perv, do one, before I fucking lamp you one. Otherwise you’re going to need some serious fucking medical attention, you get me!’

  The elderly man didn’t need to be told twice. Humiliated at being caught out he got up from his chair and made his way towards the exit, sharpish.

  Saskia sat back down then, mortified, and was glad when Misty returned a few minutes later.

  ‘Right, do you want the good news or the bad news?’ Misty asked, unaware of all the drama that had gone on in her absence, and plonked herself back down in her seat.

  ‘The good,’ Saskia said, hoping that Misty was going to tell them they could go home. Tonight had been nothing short of a complete disaster.

  ‘The nurse on duty reckons that I’ll probably only need a few stitches.’

  ‘Ahh that’s good.’ Saskia smiled.

  ‘What’s the bad news?’ Vincent said, his voice sounding bored.

  ‘They are chock-a-block tonight and the waiting time to get seen is three hours.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake!’ Vincent put his head in his hands. ‘We’ve been sat here for an hour as it is.’ He couldn’t cope with another two; he’d end up murdering some cunt by then.

  ‘Look. Why don’t you two get off? Seriously? There’s no point in all three of us dying of boredom. I’ll hop in a cab when I’m done. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I don’t mind staying here with you?’ Saskia said, dreading the thought of having to return to the club. She’d had just about as much as she could take tonight. ‘I mean you might be concussed or something?’

  Shaking her head, Misty wouldn’t hear any of it. ‘Seriously I’m fine. That bloke’s come off a lot worse than me, trust me.’ Catching Vincent’s look, Misty pursed her mouth. ‘Tell you what though, if you do want to do me a favour, I’d really appreciate if you went back to mine. My Boris will be doing his nut if I’m stuck here all night. Maybe you could keep the old bugger company for a bit. Just until I get back?’

  ‘Boris? Er, okay, I guess… ’ Saskia suddenly didn’t sound keen. She barely knew Misty, let alone feel comfortable about sitting in her flat on her own with her boyfriend. ‘Or I could just give him a call?’

  Misty laughed then. ‘You could do, but I doubt he’d bother to answer the phone. Lazy bastard will be too busy lounging around the house, licking his balls… ’ Seeing the confusion on Saskia’s face, Misty laughed. ‘Boris is my dog!’

  ‘Oh.’ Blushing now, Saskia smiled. ‘I thought… never mind.’

  ‘The little bugger will probably be tearing the place up waiting for me to get home and let him out to do his business. I’d really appreciate it. Only if you don’t mind though.’

  Saskia nodded, glad to be of some kind of help as Misty reached into her handbag, retrieving her door key.

  ‘Oh, here we fucking go again,’ Vincent interrupted as he heard a loud noise from the other side of the waiting area.

  Saskia and Misty followed Vincent’s stare over to the commotion in the corner. A woman who had been previously lying on the floor was sitting up now, vomit projecting from her mouth.

  ‘Fucking hell! Can’t you go somewhere else and do that, like the toilets,’ Vincent muttered, pulling the sleeve of his top up over his hands and covering his mouth. ‘Fuck this.’ He groaned. The woman had made the decision for him.

  Misty was right. There was no point in them all sitting around like a bunch of cunts, waiting for a few stitches. Standing up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty-pound note.

  ‘As soon as you’ve been seen get your arse in a cab. Okay!’ Vincent said, getting up. The vile smell of vomit was filling the room now.

  ‘Come on, Saskia. I need to get out of here before I start yacking my guts up too,’ Vincent said over his shoulder as he made a hasty exit.

  He couldn’t wait to get out of the place.

  23

  Gathered at the nurses’ station for a well-earned tea break now that the doctors had finally departed and normality had resumed on the ward, Nurse Sayers was doing what she did best: having a good old rant.

  ‘It makes my blood boil – all these foreigners coming over here expecting to be given houses and benefits handed to them on a bloody plate. Funny how they are happy to fleece the NHS for free healthcare but as soon as there is any hint of trouble, “me no speak English”. What a load of tosh! I mean, I know I’ve got a lovely complexion for my age, but by Christ, even a blind man can see that I wasn’t born yesterday.’

  Tonight had been a tough one for the nurses on shift. It always was when there was a little baby at risk, especially if drug abuse was suspected.

  Thankfully, the doctors had managed to save the tiny infant, but Nurse Sayers’s mood was still dark at the thought that they had nearly lost the poor little mite. It saddened her that these type of incidents were happening more and more lately.

  ‘They don’t really seem like a couple do they?’ Nurse Roland chipped in. ‘The man that’s with her hasn’t spoken a word since they got here. He’s
barely acknowledged the baby never mind offered any comfort to the mother, and the woman seems really guarded around him. I dunno, not scared of him, but indifferent. Like she’d rather he wasn’t there… ’

  ‘Sounds like your typical married couple to me,’ Nurse Sayers quipped. ‘I know what you mean though, something ain’t right. She’s probably part of one of those gangs.’

  ‘A gang?’ Nurse Cheal asked as she looked around questioningly at the other ladies. It was her first week working in Paediatrics here at the Chelsea & Westminster Hospital and already she had seen and heard more than she had in the outside world in a lifetime. Working somewhere like here had been her dream. This was what she’d spent the last few years working so hard for; only, it was proving harder than she thought.

  Tonight, she’d been thrown in at the deep end. While the crash team had revived baby Roza she’d been left to comfort the mother, Lena.

  ‘You must have seen them. All those young beggar girls down in the underground stations. Out in all weathers that lot, begging for money.’

  ‘Well, yes, I guess I have seen people begging… ’ Nurse Cheal wasn’t sure what Nurse Sayers’s point was. ‘Maybe she’s homeless. She looked an awful state, didn’t she? Her clothes are like rags, her hair and skin filthy dirty. Why would that make her part of a gang?’ Nurse Cheal knew she sounded defensive but she couldn’t help herself. The nurses seemed to have already condemned Lena. Even if the girl was a beggar that didn’t make her a bad person. ‘She looks desperate to me, like she’s in need of some help. Maybe she was just doing what she had to for the sake of her child? Surely we can’t condemn her for that?’

  ‘That’s just it though, my lovely. It’s never about the sake of the child.’ Nurse Sayers shook her head now. Nurse Cheal reminded her a lot of how she used to be when she’d first started out. Young, naïve. Thinking that somehow she could make a difference – before she realised what a sinister world they lived in and not everyone that came through those doors wanted to be helped.

  ‘Have you ever seen any of those babies crying? The ones that those “mothers” are holding? I tell you what, next time you spot a girl begging on the underground take a proper look. Doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, or how long they’ve been sitting there, those wee bairns never, ever cry. Most of them don’t make a single sound, don’t even open their eyes,’ Nurse Sayers said, a sudden sharpness to her voice. ‘Because they’re drugged.’ Seeing the shocked look on Nurse Cheal’s face, Nurse Sayers continued. ‘We’ve seen it too many times to mention. Those poor babies are plied with drugs and alcohol. Often it’s heroin, but the gangs aren’t fussy. They’ll use whatever it takes to keep those poor mites sedated. Normally a concoction.’

  ‘Jesus!’ Nurse Cheal exclaimed, the shock clearly visible on her face. ‘How could they do that to their own child? That is horrific.’

  ‘Half the time the babies don’t even belong to the girls. They’ve been bought on the black market, or even worse, kidnapped and then smuggled into the country. It’s serious organised crime.’

  ‘But surely the girls are victims too then?’

  ‘Oh, don’t even get me started.’ Nurse Sayers was on one now. The events of the evening had well and truly rattled her. ‘It’s all about control. The men instil so much fear into those girls that they become unreachable. Even if the baby dies, which happens far too often – trust me – those girls still have to sit there and finish their day’s work, otherwise they will be punished. Can you imagine? Having to sit there and hold a dead baby in your arms… ’ She shook her head then, incensed. ‘And all those do-gooders walking past, throwing money to them, oblivious to the fact that they are lining the pockets of a street gang. The whole thing sickens me to my core. It’s inhumane.’

  ‘But Lena seemed genuinely distraught. She was beside herself.’ Nurse Cheal was doubting herself now; going against her better judgement. After all, these ladies had a lot more experience and insight than she did.

  ‘’Course she was distraught. Oh, I’d imagine the terror she felt was real all right. They all get scared when it starts to register that they could have a death on their hands.’ Nurse Sayers shook her head. ‘It’s a hard lesson to learn, Nurse Cheal, but not everyone is as they seem. That girl in there is a liar. The toxicology reports have come back showing acute opiate toxicity. Opiate poisoning. Roza was drugged.’

  ‘God! How awful. I really believed her when she said she hadn’t given the child anything.’ Nurse Cheal was sickened.

  ‘Well, it’s a lesson learned. People only tell you what they want you to know. The main thing is that baby’s stable. Social Services are sending a case worker down here first thing in the morning.’

  Nurse Sayers got up then, signalling that the tea break was officially over.

  ‘I wouldn’t wish being taken into care on any child, but what hope has the poor mite got with a mother like that? She’s not fit to keep her.’

  Peering out from the crack in the door of Roza’s private room Lena could see the nurses all huddled around the station.

  She could hear them too and bristled as she listened to them judging her. They were wrong. Wrong about her being part of a gang and wrong about her being a bad mother. She was a good mother; she loved Roza more than anything.

  She hadn’t drugged Roza.

  When Ramiz had suggested it Lena had refused.

  Suddenly she realised with horror what had happened.

  Ramiz! Of course. It all made sense.

  The couple of times he’d taken an interest in Roza on the journey and held her, Lena had thought that his sudden interest in their child had been out of character. Not only had he used their child to conceal his gun, but he’d been drugging her too! And now he’d almost killed her.

  She’d heard what the nurses had said: they were going to take Roza away from her? Then what? Maybe they’d send Lena back to Albania? She might never see her daughter again?

  Shaking, she watched as the nurses walked back towards the staff kitchen laden with empty mugs and half-empty packets of biscuits, while another nurse hurried off down the corridor to assist a patient whose alarm had just sounded.

  Lena’s mind was racing, her heart thumping inside her chest, as she began to pace the room, fighting back her tears as she felt the panic building inside of her.

  She needed to get out of here, and fast.

  She glanced over at Korab, still fast asleep on the chair; his jacket draped over him to keep himself warm, his head lolled to the side. Just the sight of him made her skin crawl. Ignoring the sleeping man, Lena turned and tiptoed back towards Roza’s cot.

  Leaning over the crib she reached out her hand, running her finger lightly over her daughter’s cheek, relishing the warmth of Roza’s skin beneath her fingertips.

  Roza looked restful now. The grey tinge that had discoloured her skin had been replaced with a healthy pink flush. Her breathing was stable; her chest rising and falling steadily as she slept, with the help of a small plastic oxygen tube that had been fitted around Roza’s head.

  The nurses had assured her that it was just a precaution; that the wires and the monitors were purely so they could assess Roza’s progress throughout the night.

  Lena knew they were buying time; keeping her here until the morning. Giving her false hope, while all the while they just wanted to separate her from her daughter.

  She knew what she had to do, but she needed to act fast. She had a few minutes, tops.

  Rummaging around in the cupboard underneath the cot’s base, Lena filled her bag with supplies: nappies, tissues, cotton wool, a spare blanket. Lena was careful not to make a sound as she filled the bag.

  For a second, Lena doubted herself, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Maybe she was a bad mother? Taking her child from the hospital when she had just been so sick. Maybe she should just leave her here, and let the authorities take her.

  Maybe then, finally, the child could have a decent life, have all the things t
hat Lena would never be able to give her.

  The thought hit her like a physical blow. She was unable to bear the thought of being apart from her child; the memory of Drita taking her still fresh in her mind.

  Lena was Roza’s mother. Roza belonged with her.

  Reaching out, Lena’s hands trembled as she hovered above the main power switch.

  Apprehensive, she squeezed her eyes shut as she switched the button, waiting for a back alarm to screech out loudly, alerting Korab and the nurses to what she was doing.

  But nothing happened. The room remained quiet, silent.

  Lena stood deadly still, her chest constricted, her breath shallow.

  The only noise was the sound of Korab snoring loudly.

  Moving with haste now, Lena peeled the tape that had secured the tiny prongs underneath Roza’s nostrils. Then she carefully lifted the transparent oxygen tube over the top of Roza’s head before unclipping the probe from her daughter’s foot.

  Weaving through the tangle of wires that dangled from the cot’s edge, she picked Roza up, wrapping her tightly inside the woollen hospital blanket. Roza didn’t stir, fast asleep, still exhausted from her ordeal.

  Making her way back over towards the door, Lena stood and peered back out into the dimly lit corridor once more. It was still empty.

  Pulling the door open, gently, quietly, Lena took her cue. Creeping, she kept her footsteps light, making a sharp left towards the double doors at the end of the ward.

  Everything was so quiet – nothing like the noise and chaos of the ward when she’d arrived hours earlier. Now there was just the odd sound of a beep in the distance, muted, echoing.

  Picking up her speed, she was almost there, just another ten feet to go.

  She was almost at the doors; her gaze fixed on the release button on the wall next to them.

  Her heart thumped. Pressing the buzzer the noise made Lena jump. Making a grab for the silver handle, she pulled the door open. Just a few more seconds and she was out of here, free.