Innocent Girls

by Terence Mitford

  She hesitated. ‘You asked me to show you something. I’ve shown you, so tell me what you know.’

  ‘I will, but I want to see more first.’

  Natasha flashed a glance at the men by her side then looked back at the boss. ‘Tell them to leave and I’ll do what you want.’

  His eyes glinted. He nodded to the two men. ‘Wait outside.’

  The men protested but the boss repeated himself in a tone which clearly was not a request but an order. They shrugged and turned to leave.

  ‘And close the door on your way out.’

  As the door slammed shut the boss clicked his fingers and pointed to her jeans.

  She had mixed emotions. She had got rid of two of the men from the room, improving her chances, but she would still have to cooperate with this guy to get the information she needed. ‘If I take off my jeans I will need you to tell me what you know.’

  He nodded. ‘Deal.’

  Natasha unzipped her boots and kicked them off. Then slid her jeans down her legs and stepped out of them. She was now naked except for her panties.

  He studied her body from head to foot, a sick grin across his face, then he focused on her underwear and pointed.

  She shook her head. ‘You agreed a deal.’

  Still transfixed, he nodded. ‘Okay, I didn’t take your sister but I know who did.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Hugo Savic.’

  ‘I need more.’

  ‘What will you do for me if I tell you?’

  At last, he was starting to talk. She looked down and allowed her eyes to linger on his groin. She spoke slowly and softly, ‘Tell me and I’ll show you.’

  She knew what she was doing. She’d seen his chest rise and fall with increased intensity. His excitement was reaching its peak and the bulge in his trousers was evidence of the effect she was having on him.

  He took a deep breath. ‘He works for the Kestrati organisation. They call him The Recruiter and he specialises in abducting underage girls who are then smuggled over the borders into Western Europe where they are sold into the sex trade. They gave him your sister’s name and told him where to find her. His instructions were to smuggle her to London.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Normally, he smuggles them in the back of his van over the border into Serbia or Hungary where he hands them over to our Albanian contacts. But I heard this time he was told to take her all the way to a Belgium port and then over to England by ferry. We have an arrangement with the guards at each border.’

  Natasha noted he’d said we when referring to the arrangement with the border guards, implying he is very much part of this illegal operation. ‘Which route?’

  He sighed and his lips tightened. Natasha held her breath. Then he sighed again and continued. ‘He’s using the southern trafficking route, I have the maps.’ He pointed to a shelf in the corner of the room. ‘I’ll show you later but you’ll have to earn it first.’

  ‘How can he drive that far with a kidnapped girl? It would take days.’

  ‘It’s a well planned operation. We have safe-houses along the way. They are marked on the maps.’

  Natasha took a moment to let this information sink in. He was giving her more details than she expected and that both pleased and concerned her at the same time. It was exactly what she needed but the fact he was giving it so freely meant one of two things. Either, he was just lying to get what he wanted, or it didn’t matter how much he told her because he had no intention of letting her leave.

  But she had studied him closely as he spoke, and the information had flowed effortlessly. There was no pausing, stuttering, or uncertainty in his voice which she would have expected if he was making it up as he went along. So on balance, he was probably telling the truth, which meant he had no intention of letting her leave.

  He parted his feet and pointed to the floor in front of him. ‘Now it’s your turn. Kneel down in front of me.’

  Natasha glanced over to the shelf with the maps and as she turned back he quickly pulled his hand from under a cushion he had been using as a pillow earlier. She didn’t react because whatever was under that cushion, he could reach it before she could grab the flashlight. So she must continue to cooperate until she was ready to move, and that would be when he least expected it.

  She knelt down and placed her hands on his knees then slowly slid them up his thighs. She tipped her head forward and looked up at him from under her eyebrows, teasing him with a sultry smile. ‘Who placed the order?’

  His breathing was deep, his face flushed, he was clearly looking forward to what he thought she was about to do. ‘His name is Stefan. He’s high up in the London setup and a couple of days ago he gave Hugo the contract to take your sister.’

  He had just confirmed her suspicions. The man he referred to as Stefan must be the same man who had collected her from Heathrow airport six weeks earlier, taken her to the house in London, raped her, and then threatened to take her sister if she failed to cooperate.

  She moved a hand to the front of his trousers and squeezed. She literally had him in the palm of her hand. There was just one more thing she needed to know. ‘You have the same van, do you work for the Kestrati as well?’

  He flinched and tensed in response to her touch. ‘Maybe, but as I said, I’m not involved with your sister.’

  She nodded. ‘I believe you.’

  She accepted this man hadn’t taken Katerina, but he had no doubt taken other girls, devastating them and their families. She just had to make sure before her next move.

  ‘How do I know you are telling me the truth about the trafficking routes?’

  ‘Because I’ve run them myself many times.’

  ‘With girls?’

  ‘Of course with girls, I wasn’t smuggling potatoes.’

  She had her answer and she was determined to stop other girls falling victim to this man. She had appointed herself as his judge and jury and the verdict was in.

  It was time to dish out his sentence.

  She glanced to her right. The table was just an arm’s length away. The torch was within reach. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I’ve told you everything. Now you know what you have to do if you want the maps, and spitting is not allowed.’

  A wave of nausea swept through Natasha as she pictured, just for a second, what he expected from her. ‘Yes, I know what I have to do. Lay your head back and relax, I’m going to blow your mind.’

  He relaxed back into the sofa and groaned. ‘That’s a good girl.’

  Natasha unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his trousers, slowly pulled down the zip, and then hesitated while she planned.

  He tipped his head forward and opened his eyes. ‘For god’s sake, girl hurry up, you’re driving me crazy.’

  She lowered her head and breathed warm air onto him, then looked up at him with that same sultry smile. ‘I told you to put your head back and close your eyes. I promise, the feelings will be more intense if you do.’

  He did what he was told. ‘Okay, but get on with it and make it good.’

  She glanced back at the table and began to stand up.

  He lifted his head and opened his eyes again. ‘What are you doing?’

  Natasha quickly hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. ‘I’m just getting ready so there won’t be any delay between your starter and main course.’

  He stared at her panties. ‘Let me see.’

  She was dying inside, this was not part of the plan, but she couldn’t raise his suspicions now when she was so close. She needed an element of surprise. So she teased her panties down her thighs. ‘There now, you’ve seen everything I have, so put your head back and close your eyes.’

  He complied again.

  It was now or never.

  She pulled up her underwear, grabbed the torch by the base, and swung it with all her strength down onto his forehead. The sickening thud was followed by the splash of ho
t blood up the wall behind him.

  He jerked his head upright, grabbed her waist with one hand, and reached under the cushion with the other. ‘You bitch, I’ll kill you.’

  She was already swinging the torch down for a second time, then a third and a fourth and a fifth.

  His hand fell away from her waist and flopped down onto the sofa.

  She stood above him with the torch held high and watched for any signs of life, because her life depended on it.

  Satisfied he was no longer a threat, she reached over and lifted the cushion. His fingers were touching the handle of a butchers meat cleaver. She grabbed it and threw it across the room. Then she put the torch on the table and inspected herself. She was clean. The blood had splattered up the wall behind the sofa, missing her.

  She pulled on her clothes as fast as she could, then grabbed the torch and headed for the bathroom where she wiped it clean with a damp towel.

  She returned to the sofa and checked him again. She couldn’t bear to touch him so instead of feeling for a pulse she watched his chest for any movement. It was still. But then she glanced at his head wound. No further checks were necessary. No one could survive that. And at least he wouldn’t be ruining any more innocent girl’s lives.

  The mobile phone in her back pocket sprang to life and she jumped.

  It was Alison. ‘Natasha, where are you? I’m down by the door with one of those guys. He’s starting to worry me.’

  ‘Wait there, Alison, I’m leaving now, I’ll be down in one minute.’

  ‘Okay, but hurry, we need to get out of here.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  She ran to the shelf in the corner of the room and found four sheets of paper folded together. After confirming they were four individual maps she folded them again and stuffed them into the back pocket of her jeans. As she reached the door she hesitated, then strode back and emptied the tin of its contents, stuffing the cash into a plastic bag she found under the table.

  As she descended the last flight of stairs raised voices echoed up from below, one male, and the other was Alison’s. The man said, ‘Sorry lady, your friend won’t be coming down but you can join her upstairs.’

  When Natasha reached the ground floor Alison was pinned against the wall by the taller of the two males from the street. He was too preoccupied trying to kiss Alison to notice Natasha closing in from behind. She raised the torch high ready to strike. But aiming for his head was too risky. In the chaos of the struggle there was a danger she may hit Alison, so she redirected her aim to the man’s shoulder.

  He squealed and reeled back away from Alison. It seemed the blow was just as effective. Natasha grabbed Alison’s hand and they ran from the building. As they reached the car a man’s voice bellowed out from the top floor of the apartment block.

  ‘Stop them, stop those girls!’

  Natasha looked back while Alison fumbled with her key fob. A man was leaning out of a top floor window pointing at them. ‘Get them, kill them!’

  Figures emerged from the shadows. They were only metres away.

  ‘I don’t want to worry you, Alison, but if you don’t get this car open within the next two seconds we won’t be going anywhere.’

  Just then the door locks sprang up and they jumped in, slamming the doors behind them. The figures reached the car just as Natasha and Alison thumped down the locks with their fists. But the car was now surrounded and the noise was deafening as the unfriendlies hammered on the windows.

  Alison rammed home the keys, started the car, and screeched away with one of their pursuers on the bonnet. She accelerated, then stamped on the brakes dislodging the would-be-attacker. She swung the car around him and screeched out of the area.

  They drove in silence for a couple of miles before Alison pulled over and they exhaled together. They looked at each other and laughed out loud with nervous tension.

  They scanned the empty road behind them before Alison spoke. ‘Well, I’ll say one thing, Natasha, hanging out with you is certainly not boring.’

  ‘I have a confession to make’—Natasha held up the torch revealing a crack across the lens—‘I think I’ve broken your ex-husband’s flashlight.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, I broke a lot more than that when he ran off with a teenager.’ Alison glanced down and drew breath. ‘Is that blood on your arm? I thought you hit him on the shoulder.’

  Natasha grabbed a tissue from the centre console and wiped her arm. ‘It’s not his blood, and don’t worry, it’s not mine either. Let’s get away from here and I’ll tell you all about my wonderful time on the top floor.’

  12

  NATASHA

  After putting some distance between themselves and the Rahova District, Alison pulled over to the side of the road again. ‘Okay, what happened back there?’

  Natasha stared out through the front windscreen and sighed. ‘Can I really trust you Alison?’

  ‘Yes, you can, Natasha. I’m your friend first and a journalist second. When I told you I’m on your side, I meant it.’

  ‘Okay, but what I’m about to tell you is strictly off the record.’

  Alison nodded. ‘You have my word.’

  ‘I think I’ve just killed a man.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I beat him over the head with your torch.’

  ‘Maybe you just stunned him.’

  ‘Well, he’s going to have one hell of a headache because half of his brains are splattered up the wall.’

  Alison stared at Natasha but said nothing.

  Natasha studied Alison. ‘I’ve shocked you haven’t I? I knew you should have gone back to Comana. I’m sorry, Alison.’

  ‘No, Natasha. Well, I mean yes, I am shocked but that doesn’t mean I can’t deal with what you’re telling me. What exactly happened?’

  Natasha described the unpleasant details of her encounter in the apartment block and watched for Alison’s reaction. It was the one she’d hoped for.

  Alison slowly shook her head then reached over and hugged Natasha. ‘You did the right thing. I don’t think I would have had the guts to do it, but you did the right thing.’

  ‘Six weeks ago I would have said the same. If someone had told me I was going to kill a man and not think twice about it I would have told them they were crazy. But now I think it’s me that’s crazy.’

  ‘Alison shook her head. No you’re not,’

  Natasha glanced at Alison. ‘If ever you want to do a feature in your magazine about the making of a psychopath, I’m your subject.’

  Alison grinned. ‘You are killing the scum of the earth, that doesn’t make you a psychopath. It makes you a hero in my book. And even if you are, at least you’re a psychopath with a sense of humour.’

  Natasha thought for a moment. ‘Mason told me humour helps to keep the horror of some situations from driving you mad.’

  Alison studied Natasha. ‘You like him don’t you?’

  Natasha took a moment to answer with a nod. ‘Too much. But he’s old enough to be my father and he’s married, so that’s that.’

  ‘I don’t think age gaps are too important if two people really love each other, but the marriage thing, hell yeah, that’s a problem.’

  The guilt must have shown on Natasha’s face. Alison reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Did you… did you sleep with him?’

  Natasha nodded.

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘Do you disapprove?’

  ‘It’s not for me to judge you. But I feel for his wife.’

  ‘I’m not proud of what I did, and I’m not saying this is any excuse, but his wife, Kathy, was having an affair with a guy from her office.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Mason told me.’

  ‘Men often say things like that to justify their own actions. My ex-husband probably made up all sorts of rubbish about me to his young mistress.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t like that. It was just the once and Mason didn’t instigate things, I d
id. He didn’t take advantage of me. In fact, he tried to tell me I may regret it if anything happened between us.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I feel bad that he’s married, but if I’m honest, I don’t regret it at all.’

  Alison smiled at her. ‘Then as I just said, it’s not for me to judge you. So, changing the subject, what now?’

  Natasha stared into the footwell for a moment, then snapped out of it and sat up. ‘The guy who just broke your torch with his head told me that a man called Stefan contracted a man called Hugo Savic to transport Katerina across Europe to England. I’m sure it’s the same Stefan who met me at Heathrow airport and took me to that house in London.’

  ‘So, we need to go back to London?’

  Natasha thought for a moment before remembering the maps she had taken from the apartment. She pulled them from her back pocket, opened them out, and studied the one showing the border between Romania and Hungary. ‘I got these maps from the apartment back there. The route is marked out in red pen.’ She gasped excitedly, ‘Oh my god, he was right, there are little crosses and numbers marked along the route, He said they indicate the location of the safe-houses.’ She flipped the map over. ‘The addresses are on the back.’

  ‘Safe-houses?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a long journey, so they use safe-houses run by the traffickers where they can stop with the girls.’

  Alison turned her gaze from the map to Natasha. ‘Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?’

  ‘I have to, Alison, I have to try.’

  Alison sat back in her chair, stared ahead, and sighed. ‘Okay, which way from here?’

  Natasha leant across and kissed Alison’s cheek. ‘Thank you.’ She sat back and checked the map again. ‘From Bucharest, we head north-west to Hungary. The route goes through Austria, Germany, and Belgium. According to that guy it’s the southern trafficking route.’

  ‘Which road?’

  ‘The 503 ring road around Bucharest is just up ahead. Head north on that, then we take the E81 to the West.’

  Alison nodded and set off.

  Natasha reached out and grabbed Alison’s arm. ‘Wait, there is something I need to do before we leave this area.’