He nodded without looking up from the report. “Thanks, love. Black tea, one milk, two sugars.”
Charlie pulled her thermos from her satchel and patted it, employing tip number #4 from the “How to Hide Your Pregnancy” article. “Brought my own, thanks. I’ll take some water, though.” She was thirsty all the time. It was hard work making a person.
With a backward glance at Duncan, Kate disappeared to get the coffee, looking a little crestfallen.
“Duncan,” Charlie said, making a snap decision to intervene. “You know you’re my favorite colleague. I think you’re brilliant at your job, but sometimes, personally, I think you’re an idiot.”
Duncan looked up from the report in puzzlement. “An idiot? What’s brought this on?”
Kate reappeared at his elbow and slid a mug of tea in front of him. He thanked her with a quick smile and turned back to Charlie, who shook her head, half amused, half irritated on Kate’s behalf. She waited until Kate was out of earshot before saying, “When it comes to women, you can be completely blind. Our office manager has been mooning over you since her first day on the job. She’s cute as a button, efficient, makes a great cup of tea, and thinks you hung the moon. If I were you, I’d take a second look.”
Duncan looked surprised and glanced over his shoulder at Kate as she delivered a cup of coffee to Arben. “Is that so?” he said. He considered for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll give it some consideration.”
“You do that.” Charlie unscrewed her thermos and poured herself a cup of rooibos tea, then turned to the task at hand. “Now fill me in on what I missed in the meeting.”
They chatted through the morning and skipped lunch, discussing the new summer programs and the immediate steps they needed to take to get the initiatives off the ground.
As they discussed the summer schedule, Charlie felt a growing sense of unease. The baby was due July 11, and she would most likely be off work for most of the summer. She needed to tell her coworkers soon so they could arrange a replacement. They were counting on her help with the busy summer programs. Unfortunately, there was the matter of Ursula and the layoffs. Their boss wasn’t even subtle, making notations on her tablet and generally creating a sense of uneasy tension in the office.
While Kate, Duncan, and the other Western staffers would no doubt be supportive when Charlie finally had to tell them about the pregnancy, the reality was that many of the countries they worked in and the local contacts they had there were quite traditional, especially in the Balkans. In a region where women married young, an “older” single woman was already considered to be an unlucky novelty. Adding a pregnancy to the mix was going to complicate things exponentially. And if anyone discovered the real reason for the pregnancy, well, there would most likely be no recovering from that. Pregnant by a sperm donor? Giving the baby to her sister?
Charlie had not fully considered the implications when she had hatched the plan. In the middle of the night, sitting at a Formica table in the kitchen where she had grown up, mourning the loss of the woman who raised her, the way forward had seemed so clear and simple. But afterward, back once more in her real life, she had become gradually more aware of the complexity of the decision she’d made. If she lost her job, she would not be able to afford to continue living in Budapest. Her salary was modest by any standard, her trust fund long ago swallowed up by the fiasco in Johannesburg. She had very little financial cushion should something go wrong. She needed to make it through the round of staff cuts, then announce her pregnancy and arrange for time off for maternity leave. As soon as she gave the baby to Waverly, she would be free to return to work as usual. This was the plan. Hide the pregnancy as long as possible. Manage to keep her job until she could get her life back to normal.
Since finding the girls in the back of the van, however, she had to admit that her idea of normal had shifted radically. She was trying hard to keep this job, needed to keep this job, but there was a growing suspicion in the back of her mind that all her efforts were becoming increasingly unsatisfying. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life putting condoms on bananas?
She thought of Kinga and the other young women in the back of that van. She thought of the zip ties tightly binding their wrists and Monica’s voice on the dark drive to Belgrade when Charlie had asked how often this sort of thing happened.
No one knows for sure how many, but many girls. Thousands.
Do any ever come back home?
No. They disappear. Like they never existed.
Those words haunted her. How could she sit by when this was the daily reality? She needed to help in some way, but she had no idea how.
Charlie zoned back into the conversation just as Duncan finished describing the new roster of volunteers.
“Dr. Kruger will be heading up the health programs for mothers and babies this summer. Charlie, he wants to talk to you about helping him. He’ll be in sometime in the next hour,” Duncan concluded.
“Great,” Charlie said, unsure what she was agreeing to. She squinted out the window and took a sip of water, wishing she’d brought a sandwich or a snack. All she’d had that morning was the rooibos, and now she was feeling a little light-headed. The office seemed too hot.
A few minutes later Ursula swept into the office and convened a two-hour budget meeting that Charlie had forgotten about. Her heart sank as she scanned the lengthy agenda. She desperately needed a snack and either a nap or a brisk walk in the fresh air, perhaps both. She was feeling more unwell by the minute. Her blood sugar must be low. She’d read about it as a common pregnancy symptom. She dredged the bottom of her bag, hoping for a bag of almonds or a forgotten apple, but came up empty.
The meeting seemed to drag on interminably, the room growing warmer by the minute. After almost forty minutes, Charlie’s cell phone dinged with a text message. Ursula paused midsentence in her discussion of transportation costs in April and shot her a stern look. Charlie glanced at her cell phone as she silenced it. A text from Monica.
Charlie, call me. We have a problem.
Alarmed, Charlie murmured an apology and escaped to the bathroom in the back hall, locking the door behind her.
In the bright light of the tiled bathroom she sat down on the toilet and called Monica immediately.
Monica answered on the first ring. “Charlie.” Her voice sounded strained.
“Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Charlie whispered. Leaving a meeting to use the toilet was acceptable. Leaving a meeting to make phone calls in the bathroom was definitely not. She hunched forward on the seat, intent on Monica’s voice.
“I can’t talk right now, but we need to meet as soon as you can. Someplace safe.” Monica sounded panicked, her words coming in a rush.
“Safe? What do you mean?” Charlie asked, her pulse quickening. “Safe from what?”
“Charlie,” Monica said. “The men who sold Kinga and Simona, they found me.”
“What? How?” Dread curdled her insides in an instant. She tried to draw a deep breath. “What happened? How did they find you?”
Monica cleared her throat nervously. “I can’t talk now. Meet me at Szimpla as soon as you can. I’ll explain everything.” She hung up.
Clutching the cell phone, Charlie tried to think. Her heart was hammering in her ears. Should she go to the police? But what if they were in on it? She knew that corruption was rife in central Europe. Hungary was no exception. Nowhere seemed safe. The traffickers had found Monica. It was probably just a matter of time until they found out about Charlie’s involvement too, if they didn’t know already. What could she do?
Someone knocked on the door.
“Occupied,” she called out. She shut her eyes and leaned over, putting her forehead on her knees. Her head was swimming and her pulse was rapid in her ears. She thought she might pass out. She had locked herself in the bathroom. Another stupid move. If she did pass out, no one would be able to help her. She needed to open the door. She needed a snack and a place to lie down
and let her blood sugar stabilize. How had they found Monica? Her thoughts were whirling around in her head at an alarming rate.
Someone rapped on the door again, firmer this time.
Annoyed and light-headed, Charlie stood up, staggered to the door, and managed to turn the lock, pushing open at the same time as the person on the other side pulled it. She lost her balance and toppled forward. Someone grabbed her as she fell. All of a sudden she was steadied against a barrel chest, and a strong arm clamped across her back, keeping her upright. Startled, she glanced up, finding herself almost eye to eye with Johan Kruger. He smelled warm and spicy, like southern sweet tea and cinnamon.
“Hello there,” he said.
She was standing very close to him. The smooth, round contour of her belly was poking into his middle.
He stared hard at her for a long moment, eyes narrowing in sudden comprehension. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
“Charlie, are you all right?”
She heard his voice from a great distance as her vision narrowed to a pinpoint and then was swallowed into a warm blackness. The last thing she felt was Johan’s arm supporting her as her knees buckled.
A few minutes later she came to. She was lying on the cold bright blue tiles of the bathroom, her head pillowed on her lumpy bag. Johan knelt next to her, his fingers on the pulse in her wrist.
“Easy there,” he murmured as she tried to sit up. “Better lie back for another minute. I sent Kate for something to eat. You’ll feel better once you’ve got something in your stomach.”
Obediently Charlie lay back. The tiles were uncomfortably hard, but she didn’t want to risk passing out again. She looked up. Johan was watching her with a thoughtful expression.
“How far along are you?” he asked.
She didn’t bother to deny it. “Just past twenty weeks.”
He nodded. “Did you eat anything recently?”
She shook her head. It felt strange to finally admit that she was pregnant. Oddly, she didn’t feel exposed by his knowing. He didn’t seem surprised.
“I thought you might be pregnant back in January in Romania. The bananas.” He smiled slightly, cocking an eyebrow.
She nodded. “Nobody knows except you. I need to keep it a secret.”
“You’ve seen a doctor.” It was not a question.
She nodded again. “The baby’s doing great. I just don’t want anyone from work knowing yet. It’s complicated.”
“It almost always is,” he agreed ruefully.
She laughed. He probably thought the father was a work colleague. Perhaps the result of a wild weekend tryst in Montenegro with Duncan. The truth was far more convoluted and bizarre.
“I’m okay,” she assured him, struggling to sit up. “I just need to eat something.”
There was a knock at the door, and Kate poked her head in. “Here’s the sandwich and a yogurt I had in the fridge.” She handed both to Johan, looking curiously at Charlie. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, just low blood sugar. Should have eaten breakfast, I guess.” Charlie drew her blazer across her middle and managed a weak smile as Kate withdrew, shutting the door behind her. Johan insisted on staying with her while she ate the yogurt and all of the sandwich. She found she was ravenous and devoured the mozzarella, tomato, and basil panini in a matter of moments.
Johan was easy company. He sat with her on the bathroom floor and asked her questions about her time in Budapest, filling her in on what he had been doing since they’d worked together in Johannesburg. She struggled to keep up her end of the conversation. All her inner focus was bent on the call from Monica and their impending meeting. Her heart skipped a beat every time she thought of it.
At last Johan declared her well enough to get up, although he recommended she take the rest of the day off, a decision she gladly agreed to. She couldn’t possibly work now, not with Monica waiting for her, not with this impending feeling of doom.
Johan helped her to her feet, his hand warm and strong. He didn’t let go for a moment. “You all right?” he asked, scrutinizing her. “You look pale.”
She smiled shakily and nodded. “These hormones are crazy.”
He nodded, looking sympathetic. “So I hear. Take care of yourself. Rest, drink plenty of fluids.”
“Yes, Doctor.” She gave him a mock salute.
Johan gave her another assessing look. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure,” she said without much conviction. She tried to shrug it off, straightening her shoulders and smiling briskly.
“If you run into trouble,” he said, looking her in the eye firmly, “I hope you will consider me a friend.”
She clutched her cell phone in her hand, thinking of the panic in Monica’s voice. What could he possibly do about that? But still, it was kind of him to offer.
“Thank you,” she said, and meant it.
CHAPTER 14
When Charlie arrived at Szimpla Kert, Budapest’s iconic “ruin pub,” Monica was waiting in the cave-like entrance. Housed in a formerly condemned factory, Szimpla was an enormous warren of derelict rooms, crumbling staircases, and patios that abounded with dim nooks and overlooked corners. It was entirely decorated with recycled furnishings—a seating area made from an old Trabant car, a lamp crafted out of half a bicycle. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke and spilled cheap beer. And at this hour it was almost deserted.
Charlie and Monica found an unoccupied corner with two mismatched chairs huddled against a narrow wooden table. Charlie went to the bar and returned with peach juice for herself and the shot of plum palinka, Hungary’s iconic fruit brandy, that Monica had requested.
“What happened?” Charlie asked immediately, sliding Monica’s drink over to her side of the table.
Monica cast a nervous glance over her shoulder and leaned forward. “I got a package in the mail today,” she said quietly.
She pulled a manila envelope from her handbag and shook the contents onto the table. In the dim light from the floor lamp beside them Charlie squinted to see clearly. She froze, a tendril of fear snaking down her spine as she saw the items. Two plastic zip ties cut in pieces and a smashed cell phone.
Charlie’s pulse quickened as she stared at the objects on the table, and she tasted again the fear, silver in her throat, as cold and sharp as the January night it had happened.
Monica cast a look around and then pulled a folded scrap of paper from her pocket. “This was in the envelope too.” She spread the paper out on the table. In bold black scrawl it said, Să nu scoți o vorbă!
“What does that mean?” Charlie asked.
“‘Don’t say a word,’” Monica said.
Charlie stared grimly at the words on the paper. “How did they track you down?”
Monica shrugged. “I’m sure it wasn’t hard. The girls go missing in a tiny village in the middle of the night, and the next morning we are gone too.”
Charlie sat back and cursed softly. She’d thought they were safe, that they had escaped detection. She glanced over her shoulder but the room was empty. Still, she felt eyes on her.
“What do you think they want with you?” Charlie asked finally. “Why did they send you that message?”
Monica leaned forward, over the pieces of plastic. “I think it’s a warning not to talk about what we saw.” She looked down and toyed with her shot glass of palinka. “A lawyer called me yesterday. She works with the safe house where the girls are. Remember the girls who helped us, Kinga and Simona?” She glanced up briefly at Charlie, who nodded. “The girls knew who their traffickers were. Kinga was sold by her cousin. Simona’s uncle tricked her. The lawyer told me that they are taking the men to court. Both men were arrested last week in Serbia in a police raid, but they are claiming the girls were going to Turkey willingly. Kinga and Simona say they were forced to go. And we’re the only witnesses who can prove they were taken against their will. Their lawyer wants me to testify about what we saw that night. I think she will contact
you too.” Monica licked her lips nervously.
“You told her about me?”
“I didn’t have to. Kinga and Simona already had.”
Charlie shifted in the hard chair and stared at the pieces of plastic, feeling the weight of this new information. They were in the middle of something extremely dangerous.
She crossed her arms over her swelling belly, a gesture of protection. “What are you going to do?”
Monica sighed heavily. “I’ve been thinking about this,” she said finally, “and I cannot testify.” She carefully scooped the cut pieces of zip tie and the smashed cell phone into the envelope, not meeting Charlie’s eyes. “I’m going home to Romania,” she said. “And I’m going to keep my mouth shut.”
Charlie stared at her incredulously. “Are you serious? You’re just giving in to them?”
Monica looked up, her expression scared and a little sad. “Charlie, you don’t understand. These people . . . They will stop at nothing to get what they want. They know who I am. My father is dead. I am the only one left to take care of my mother. My sister has two little girls. These people could hurt my family. I can’t risk it. I already told Ursula that today is my last day. I am taking a night bus to Medias tonight.”
Charlie was dumbfounded. Monica was leaving, going home to Romania, just like that?
“What should I do?” she asked, feeling suddenly very alone.
“Whatever you think you have to do,” Monica replied simply. “If you keep your head down, maybe they won’t figure out you were there too.” But her tone of voice was doubtful. She stood, threw back the shot of palinka in one swallow, and grabbed the envelope from the table. She hugged Charlie hard for a long moment, whispering in her ear, “Be careful, my friend.” A moment later she was gone.
In disbelief Charlie watched Monica hurry down the grimy hallway toward the stairs. She did not glance back. So that was it? They had worked together for more than three years. She considered Monica a friend. And now, just like that, Monica was leaving.
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