by Andy McNab
‘Head back towards the hotel. Remember the supermarket across the road? Drive into the car park.’
We overtook an old guy with ladders roped to his bike as she worked her way back onto the main.
‘They’re with us.’
‘Normal speed. Nothing we can do about them. We’ve got to concentrate on that lard-arse in the photo. We need to find out who he is. Maybe she’s done a runner with him. It could be something as simple as that. Falling in love and all that sort of shit.’
‘How are you going to go back and check that out, Nicholas?’ She sounded annoyed. ‘You going to disguise yourself as a normal human being or something?’
‘Give Lena a call and tell her we’re on our way.’
I pulled out her iPhone and dialled the number. She was waffling away in Russian as we approached the multi-storey.
‘We want one on the ground floor if we can. In between a couple of parked cars.’
She drove under the height bar and into the gloom.
‘There, to the right - straight in.’
Anna swung the wheel. The Beamer followed us in and rolled to a halt. They only had two options: back out, park up and come back on foot, or come past us looking for a space. They couldn’t park close by because we’d have eyes-on. With luck, they’d have to carry on up to the next floor.
Anna slipped in between two minging old Skoda-type estate cars. The Beamer’s tyres screeched on the painted concrete as it carried on up the ramp.
She turned off the engine and started to get out. I gripped her arm. ‘Bring everything. This car’s history. We’re not coming back.’
We made for the pedestrian exit. There was no point checking behind. It was all about making distance and getting as many angles between us as we could.
We’d soon find out if they were following. I hoped not. There were a lot more of them than there were of us. And they were big fuckers.
9
17.05 hrs
Irina sat behind the desk. Lena collated documents and pictures for her visit to the mother of the girl in Barcelona. She was still trying to trace her. The address they’d been given was wrong. I could barely see them. The women were all smoking their cigarettes like they were one step away from the firing squad.
Anna brought them up to speed. ‘Nicholas heard rumours about one of the traffickers in London. His source said he was moving girls to the UK and had a contact at the university.’
‘Contact?’ Irina rested her hands on the mountain of box files in front of her. ‘What is his name?’
I shrugged. ‘I wasn’t given his name, but I was shown his picture. There’s a shot of him outside the faculty office.’
Lena was still gobbing off on her mobile.
‘We got chased out before we could find his name.’
She didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘I’ll go and have a look.’
‘You sure?’
Of course she was. She’d done things that were a lot more dangerous.
‘When?’
‘As soon as possible. Now?’
‘Lena can drive me.’
‘OK. He’s overweight, with big frizzy hair. In one of the photos he’s kissing a girl. She’s blonde, dyed blonde.’
Lena closed down her mobile. ‘No problem. I’ll drop you off.’ She’d been listening to every word. She pulled another cigarette from her pack and stabbed it at us. ‘You want to stay here?’
‘If that’s OK.’
‘Of course.’
They started towards the door, arm in arm. Lena’s mobile kicked off again. She dug in her bag. ‘But please don’t leave. The office must never be unattended.’
Anna and I sat back and enjoyed a moment’s silence.
Eventually I stood up and went over to the stack of files on the desk.
10
We spent nearly an hour flicking through them. There wasn’t anything to check on a PC because there wasn’t a PC.
I was feeling rough.
Anna read my mind. ‘Up the stairs, you can’t miss it.’
I followed her instructions and dry-swallowed a couple of Smarties. Fuck the water: I didn’t trust anything out of a tap in this neck of the woods.
Anna was kneeling by the fax machine when I got back, sifting through sheets of paper. ‘Maybe the police don’t want them to be online. It would make Lena’s job too easy.’
I picked up a box file labelled 2005 and discarded it. Our target wouldn’t have left school by then.
‘I bet it’s Lena who doesn’t want to be online. Cell phones are giving the police enough information already.’
Anna brought another pile of documents to the desk for me to rifle through. ‘You OK, Nicholas?’
‘Fine. I was knackered from the flight and we haven’t exactly been dossing around since then, have we?’ I paused. ‘All this smoke’s not helping.’
Anna scrutinized the desk top. ‘I’ve been thinking, Nicholas. Maybe we could go away together … Spring is so beautiful in Moscow.’
‘What about CNN?’
‘CNN can wait. Maybe I could show you the White Nights in St Petersburg.’ Her face lit up. ‘It’s such high latitude the sun doesn’t sink below the horizon. You can walk along the river in daylight, even at two in the morning.’
‘Sounds like an insomniac’s paradise.’
We sat in silence for a while. I didn’t know what more to say. Did I look that bad? Was it that obvious?
‘Nicholas … Why are you really doing this job? You don’t need to. It’s not a game, you know.’
‘Part of me has always tried to pretend it is a game. But not this time. I don’t want to go all dewy-eyed on you, but I’m worried about this girl. I don’t want to let her down. I’ve been there before, and I didn’t like it.’
Her iPhone rang. ‘Hello, Irina.’ She grabbed a pen and paper with her spare hand. I watched her write just two words.
Viku Slobozia.
They spoke a little longer, and then she closed down.
‘That’s him. He’s a post-grad. Irina’s already called Lena. Neither of them has heard of him. Lena’s picking her up.’
I’d been hoping his name would ring bells. They’d know who he was and where he lived, and we’d go down to his flat and come out with Lilian. What now? I picked up a file with a photocopied picture on the cover, and a light bulb flicked on in my head. ‘You know what, Anna? Lilian might not be on Facebook any more, but this boy might be.’
11
‘Found him!’ She held up the iPhone. ‘He’s quite the Mr Lover Man. At least, he seems to think so.’
She expanded the first picture with her thumb and forefinger. Viku Slobozia was giving it some in a bar, in full eighties porn-film gear. He clearly thought he was Daniel Craig. He’d not held back on the hair gel, but the frizz remained defiant. The dickhead even had Aviators on indoors.
She scrolled down. ‘Here we are.’
It was the photo I’d seen at the uni, the one where he’d mistaken Lilian’s face for a pie. She scrolled some more. Lilian was only one in a cast of dozens. Mr Lover Man had many ‘chicks’. There was a different girl in every picture. He either had a giant appetite, or they didn’t stick around long. I couldn’t blame them. Maybe Tresillian was right about all this social-networking shit. It made you look a dickhead, and for ever.
She pointed at a caption. ‘It says: “Viku loves the ladies.” ‘
I bet he did. But I still couldn’t believe the ladies loved him. I went back through his gallery of conquests. Lilian included, they all looked younger than him. Maybe that was his secret. He was a post-grad who only hit on first and second years.
The next three pictures had me worried.
I expanded one of Slobo sitting in an old-style silver Merc convertible, one of the little two-seater jobs with a steel roof that folded back and tucked into the boot. A machine like that should have been way beyond his student grant.
What he cradled in his hands concerned me more. He posed side-on to
the camera, gangster-style, the barrel of a chrome-plated Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol aimed at the ground about ten feet away. There was no mag in it, but that didn’t matter. The thing was still so heavy he couldn’t hold it straight. Fully loaded, it would hold nine .50 rounds to fuck people up with. The weapon fitted his profile, of course. As a bad-boy brand it was up there with Mercs and magnums of Cristal champagne.
‘Why don’t you email him, Anna? Get a date. Looks like he’d give a warm welcome to a new girl in town. Just stay away from his mouth.’
Her brow furrowed as she scrolled to the end of Slobo’s picture library. ‘Don’t you think there might be an age issue?’
‘We’ll worry about that when the time comes. He’s not going to know until he meets you, is he? By then it’ll be too late.’
She hesitated a few seconds while she gave it some thought. Then the thumbs got moving again. ‘This guy’s so vain he’s got to be checking his page ten times a day.’ She smiled. ‘I bet he replies inside an hour.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I don’t think Mr Lover Man will turn down what I’m saying is on offer.’
12
We could hear Lena gobbing into her phone from half a street away. That thing never left her ear.
She swept in like a tornado, grabbed the first available piece of paper and started scribbling. Irina was just behind her. She looked down at the coffee-table and saw no mugs. ‘You haven’t had coffee?’
‘Didn’t even think about it. We were checking files. We thought we’d have a look in case our guy was tucked away in there somewhere.’
She looked almost offended, like we’d spurned her hospitality. ‘I’ll make some.’
Lena accepted one of Anna’s cigarettes and they both lit up. She finally finished the call as Irina came back with the brews and placed her mobile carefully on her desk. ‘The mother broke down with joy. I’m trying to arrange a call between them. The mother has no phone. They’re poor. They have nothing. But, hey …’ Her hands went up in the air to signal a change of subject. ‘So what do we know about this Viku Slobozia?’
She listened intently as Anna tried to explain how we’d found him on Facebook. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn’t having any of it. ‘This doesn’t ring true. There’s more to it. Why didn’t you tell us you were going to the university? Irina could have gone in for you straight away. We’re here to help.’
There was no way I was going to let Anna bring up Lilian’s name. I jumped in. ‘It was my fault. I’m trying to protect people in London. I didn’t want anybody here to know what we were doing. And then I met you two. I didn’t want to affect what you’re doing, or add to your workload. But I realize now that I could have messed things up.’
Irina took a sip of her brew. ‘What next?’
‘I’m waiting for a reply.’ Anna looked up from her iPhone screen and grinned. ‘I’m an innocent seventeen-year-old today, new to the city. He’s in for a shock, isn’t he?’
They didn’t like the joke. They both looked concerned. ‘He might have contacts in London, but who cares about them? It’s the contacts he’s got here you have to worry about.’
I shifted in my seat. ‘It’s the only way, Lena. He likes linking up with young girls. But don’t worry, I’m not going to put Anna in danger. I’ll take over before he gets his tongue out.’ I didn’t mention his Desert Eagle.
Anna’s iPhone kicked off. ‘I told you.’ Her face fell the moment she opened it up. ‘Shit. He wants my Facebook page.’
‘Tell him you haven’t got one.’
Lena cut in: ‘No, tell him your parents wouldn’t let you have one. But now you’re free of them and in the city, you want to put one together. You want to get as many friends as possible. Maybe he can help you do that. If he’s a trafficker or he’s moving you on, he’s going to take the bait. It’s perfect for him. No Facebook, no trace. None of your friends are going to be worried about you because you haven’t refreshed your page.’
Anna thumbs bounced around and she hit send.
We had less than a minute to wait. The phone vibrated again. Anna wasn’t impressed. ‘Now he wants a picture.’
Irina stood up, pulling back her hair. ‘Use me.’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘You don’t want to go that route again.’
Lena gave a sad smile. ‘It’s all right. It won’t be the first time Irina’s posed as a potential victim to flush these fucks out.’
Irina nodded. ‘Nick, it’s not a problem.’
‘That’s all well and good, but if he wants to meet, it’s going to be Anna or me standing there. What happens then?’
Irina smiled for the camera. ‘That’s easy. I’ll meet him for you.’
Anna hesitated before pressing the button. She looked at me.
‘Too dangerous. He’s got a weapon.’
Irina walked back to the desk. ‘Where do you think you are, Nick?’ She dug around in her small black leather handbag and pulled out a .38 revolver. ‘Meet this country’s only reliable policeman.’
Then Lena pulled aside her grey cardigan to reveal a shoulder holster. I didn’t recognize the weapon from the grip but I knew it would still go bang and kill people. ‘In our business you need these things. If Irina wants to go, let her. She knows what to do.’
Irina was back in pose mode, still waiting for Anna to do her David Bailey number.
I pointed at her bag. ‘Have you used that thing?’
‘Three times. And if I ever see the friend who sold me, it will be four.’
13
19.55 hrs
The border crossing into Transnistria was at a place called Bender. It would get us into Tiraspol, the capital of this breakaway state, just thirty minutes later. As Viku said when he replied to Anna, he was chilling out at home for a while. Why didn’t Anna come and spend some time with him, see some sights?
That was exactly what a much younger Anna was going to do tonight. Irina had taken over the communication on Anna’s iPhone. She said she was new at the university. She was coming in from Moscow and was suddenly getting cold feet because she had no friends in Chisinau. She’d come across him on Facebook and wondered if he’d help her out. He looked a fun kind of guy.
Anna had been at the wheel of Lena’s Skoda estate for the best part of an hour.
Irina bounced around on the back seat. The roads were unsigned, potholed and totally unlit. We’d had close shaves with tractors, pedestrians and livestock. Anna’s eyes were glued to the small pool of light in front of us as yet another minibus taxi overtook us on a blind corner, packed to capacity with people and suitcases.
‘You have the presents?’
I patted the four hundred US dollars’ worth of lei in my jeans, two hundred in each pocket. Irina had changed some for us both. She’d lost ten per cent on the deal because her USD bills weren’t in absolutely pristine condition.
The headlights picked out a sign that said we were coming to the border. Anna slowed. A pool of light bathed the rutted tarmac about two hundred metres ahead.
‘Look bored, Nick. Who knows? They might just let us through. Irina, be asleep.’
Six or seven guys were sitting in the middle of the road on fold-up chairs. One got slowly to his feet as we came into view. He indicated for us to park up behind them.
‘Shit.’ Anna wasn’t impressed. ‘We’re visiting a friend in a bar, remember. Use his real name, Irina.’
I nodded. I’d leave it to her to explain why her boyfriend was British and didn’t speak a word of her language.
Two older guys stepped forward. They had parkas with the hoods up, and orange armbands to show they were official. One of them came round to her side of the vehicle. Anna powered down the window and tried being short, sharp and aggressive.
They didn’t buy it.
Irina produced an ID card. Anna pulled her passport out and I followed suit. My guy had a grey beard but I couldn’t see much else of his face. With his hood up, he looked like
something out of South Park. I smiled as he took it away. I couldn’t tell if he’d smiled back. I doubted it.
He walked round to the front of the wagon. I hated this. I hated losing control of a passport, even for a few minutes.
We were held as a couple of people-carrier buses screamed straight through. The bearded one was joined by his mate. They had a chat about the passports. He came back and gobbed off in Russian at Anna. He handed Irina back her ID card, but he pointed at me. Then he pointed at the bonnet.
‘Give me two hundred, Nick.’
I passed over the two notes from my right pocket and the passports were slipped back through the window. Transaction complete. Simple as that.
Up went the windows and we moved off.
‘All that nonsense just for a bung?’
Anna manoeuvred between two trucks. ‘They said it was a car tax to cross the border. That’s a new one on me. Normally it’s a fine for some kind of driving offence.’
‘Why do they sit in the middle of the road? They got a death wish or something?’
Irina’s head appeared between us. ‘Moldova refuses to build an official checkpoint because it considers Transnistria a break-away province. But at the same time they’re not too thrilled about having their eastern border wide open. So …’
No sooner had Anna accelerated than she had to slow down again. We entered a massive concrete anti-tank chicane.
Irina stayed in tour-guide mode. ‘These were put here by Transnistria in case the Moldovans came across again. It gives the one thousand Russian “peacekeepers” time to get to the border to help.’
Anna prepared her passport for another outing. We emerged from the chicane to see two uniformed Russians in camouflage parkas and furry hats, AK47s slung across their chests. They looked severely pissed off at being on stag at this time of night.
‘They’re part of the Fourteenth Army, the so-called “secret Russians”. You can’t move for them over here.’
Ahead of us, on a straight bit of tarmac, there was another pool of light. More lads sat outside on chairs, but this time there was a Portakabin close by.