Cold Courage

by Pekka Hiltunen

  His instincts told him Lia was not there even before he had checked the house. There was only Vanags’ corpse in the downstairs bedroom.

  Paddy exited through the back door and went to look at the place where Vanags’ car had been. Still no sign of Lia. So she was in the car, with Jansons.

  On the way to his own car, he rang Mari again and briefly related the situation. They had never had an emergency like this before, but Paddy heard Mari’s reaction from her voice: she set her feelings aside, acting as a rescue worker would, concentrating on the facts.

  Elza was waiting in the car, ashen-faced. She had sat up, as had Henriete, who was holding her eyes shut.

  ‘Lia isn’t there. Jansons probably took her with him. Do you know where he could be going?’ Paddy asked.

  Elza thought for a moment.

  ‘Jansons is in charge of a place in the City where five women work. But I don’t know where he lives.’

  ‘It’s unlikely he would take Lia anywhere with other people.’

  ‘Yes. They must have some warehouses. Kazis talked about the one where he killed Anita. I don’t know where it is.’

  Paddy looked at the GPS he had taken from Vanags’ car, which had been thrown on to the floor in the recent getaway.

  ‘This knows,’ he said and picked up the sat-nav.

  The drive took at least fifty minutes, Lia thought.

  In the dark and close atmosphere of the boot she tried to concentrate on the passage of time. That gave her something to think about. Something other than what was happening.

  Lying in the boot was pure torture. Her head hurt, and she did not have space to stretch out her arms or legs. They had all gone numb.

  The engine roared in a wall of metallic sound, filling the entire space.

  One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

  Periodically she counted off the minutes. Absurd thoughts ran through her head.

  How long does thinking the word ‘second’ take?

  She felt every braking and acceleration. The motions of the car tossed her about. At times she felt nauseated and worried she would vomit.

  When the sound of the tyres changed and the car began swaying even more, Lia realised they had turned off the road.

  A sudden braking and a stop. Jansons switched off the engine. The automatic locks opened with a whine.

  Lia tried the boot again. She couldn’t prise the catch open from inside. And she wouldn’t have had time to get anywhere anyway.

  Footsteps in gravel moved around the car, and the boot opened. Jansons pointed his gun at her. The sudden light hurt Lia’s eyes.

  This was what it had felt like for Daiga, Elza and all the other women when they were smuggled into Britain, Lia realised. Only much, much worse.

  Paddy searched the GPS for locations Vanags had stored in memory.

  Twenty-one places in London. Paddy quickly recognised the addresses Vanags visited every night: Vassall Road, Sangley Road, the Assets club. But Jansons would hardly take Lia anywhere so populated.

  Paddy searched the locations on the outskirts of London stored in the GPS. There were four: in Chatham, Harlow, Rickmansworth and Sutton. Was one of those the place?

  He called Mari, who was at the Studio and immediately took the phone to Rico.

  Rico typed the addresses into his search programs.

  A minute passed while Rico gathered information about the type of structure at each address and what occupied it, as well as aerial photos of each.

  ‘I would rule Harlow out because there are so many companies housed around there,’ Rico said.

  ‘We’re probably looking for a warehouse. The one where they killed Anita Klusa,’ Paddy said.

  Rico and Mari sifted through the information as quickly as they could.

  ‘Sutton. 1392 Kimpton Park Way. That has to be it. The only business registered there is Vanags’ Riga Trade. That’s the only one that looks like a warehouse from the outside.’

  Paddy immediately entered the address in his own sat-nav and started the car while he was still on the line with the Studio.

  ‘We’re ten to twelve minutes behind.’

  Mari said she had reached Alan Scott and Fergus Anderson. They were on their way, but getting to Sutton would take time.

  ‘And the police?’ Mari asked.

  ‘If the police come, we’ll all end up being interrogated. That would make it more likely for Jansons to be arrested, but I don’t know whether it would help Lia at all.’

  This was a decision neither of them would have liked to make. But time was short.

  ‘No police,’ Paddy decided. ‘Not yet. If there is anyone besides Jansons at the warehouse, then we’ll call in the authorities.’

  The warehouse contained big, dusty machinery, lots of boxes and a few chairs. Lia had to wind her way through it all as Jansons forced her inside.

  Lia saw the concrete pit in the middle of the hall. Her knees sagged. The pit looked smaller than she had imagined and more frightening.

  Jansons ordered her to walk down into it.

  Slowly she descended the concrete ramp. She had only taken a few steps along the bottom of the pit when Jansons said, ‘Stop,’ in a clipped, commanding tone.

  He talks that way to take power, to keep me in his grasp.

  Jansons inspected his mobile phone for a moment. He kept one eye on Lia as he read his messages.

  Lia saw on the edges of the concrete pit the steel grates that could be placed over it, allowing for cars to be serviced from below.

  She realised what the dark marks on the floor and walls of the cement pit were.

  The brightness of the fluorescent lamps lighting the warehouse made the dried bloodstains look blackish brown. There was blood everywhere. In the centre of the pit, along the rough concrete floor ran a wide, dark trail. Someone had sprayed water into the pit to wash the blood away. The dark stream had run down to a shallow drainage trench along the centre of the pit. Lia made the mistake of looking at the drain hole. The wire grille was full of bloody gunk and small bits of something unidentifiable.

  This was where they had killed Anita Klusa. This was where they had shot her apart with a smuggled machine gun.

  Lia closed her eyes, but that made her even more afraid. She opened her eyes and looked straight ahead, fixing her gaze on the wall above the pit. All that had on it was dirt and grease.

  They forced Anita to run when they fired. I won’t run. I won’t run even if he tells me to. Or will I be able to stop myself running when he shoots towards me?

  Jansons pointed his gun at her. ‘Sit.’

  Lia sat on the concrete floor. She tried not to look at the bloodstains.

  She couldn’t help thinking about Anita Klusa.

  Less than a week had passed since her murder. In that time the bloodstains had already stopped stinking in the cold warehouse. It just smelled musty.

  Jansons slipped his mobile phone into his pocket and looked at Lia. She couldn’t tell much from his face. Lia understood that for both of them, their options were running out.

  Paddy parked his car a few hundred metres from the warehouse. He identified it easily: several other industrial buildings were close, but only one had light shining from its windows so late at night.

  Paddy had learned from Scott and Anderson that they were still half an hour away. Too long.

  He rang Mari and reported the location of his car. She could guide the reinforcements in.

  ‘If they can’t contact me, their first task is getting Elza and Henriete to safety. Then they can come looking for Lia and me.’

  After ringing off, Paddy turned to look at Elza. ‘You stay here.’

  ‘We will,’ Elza said firmly.

  Paddy set his mobile to silent and climbed out of the car. Switching the safety off on his gun, he started walking towards the warehouse.

  Kazis Vanags’ car was parked out front. Paddy approached the car, scanning the area.

  No one was inside. The boot was open.
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  ‘Who do you work for?’ Olafs Jansons asked.

  Lia stared at the man standing before her on the edge of the pit and thought about what would be the right answer. Was there any answer that would help?

  ‘You aren’t with the police,’ Jansons said.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Lia said. ‘I’ve been looking for a woman named Daiga Vītola.’

  Jansons eyed her closely.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I wanted to know why Daiga Vītola was killed.’

  Jansons’ expression did not change.

  ‘Who killed Vanags?’ he asked.

  Lia kept her mouth shut.

  ‘It wasn’t you,’ Jansons said.

  ‘No. It wasn’t me.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘A woman Vanags had hurt.’

  Was that a smile Lia saw flit across his lips?

  ‘There are many women like that. Dozens. Who was it?’

  Lia did not utter a word.

  I don’t want to say Henriete’s name. If there is any justice in the world, I won’t have to say Henriete’s name.

  Jansons’ phone beeped, and he stopped to read the message that had arrived.

  Another moment. I have another moment left.

  Henriete Vītola opened her eyes.

  She looked at Elza, who was sitting next to her, and Elza saw that Henriete was back in this world.

  ‘How are you?’ Elza asked.

  ‘Not well. But that doesn’t matter. What are we doing here?’

  ‘We’re waiting to see whether the Finnish woman is dead. Lia. Olafs Jansons took her into that building there. Paddy, the bodyguard, went to see what he could do.’

  Henriete looked somewhere far away.

  ‘Finnish Lia is there,’ she said. ‘Who is Olafs Jansons?’

  Just like Kazis Vanags, Elza said. Just younger. A man who has killed many people, but has just not had time to kill as many as Vanags. The man who keeps women in slavery at a brothel in the City, and the man who came up with the idea to crush Daiga’s body with a steamroller.

  Henriete looked straight ahead for a long time.

  Then she opened the rear door of the car and slowly got out. Elza saw that she was favouring her left arm, the one Vanags had cut.

  Henriete opened the car’s front door and leaned in. She opened the glove compartment and fished something out. Outside she straightened up, holding the pistol in her hand. The gun’s magazine was empty.

  ‘Do you have any bullets?’ Henriete asked in Latvian.

  Elza swallowed.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In my bag.’

  ‘Give them to me.’

  Elza stared at Henriete. She extended her handbag to her.

  ‘This is not good,’ Elza said. ‘Everyone is going to die.’

  Henriete took a small clip from the bag and slid it into place in the handle of the gun.

  ‘I already died,’ she said. ‘I died when they took Daiga from me.’

  The text message made Jansons impatient.

  Lia could see it in his face. He started typing into his phone but then he stopped.

  It’s bad news. Maybe he’s heard that the prostitutes from Vassall Road are gone. He’s worried about his own girls.

  ‘Who was that man? The one driving the car,’ Jansons asked.

  Lia remained silent. She could see this made him even more annoyed.

  ‘You have ten seconds to start talking.’

  Jansons raised his gun. Now it was pointing directly at Lia’s face.

  How many bullets does he have? Has he reloaded since he shot at Paddy’s car?

  ‘I’ll talk,’ Lia said. ‘He’s my friend. He wanted to help me.’

  ‘Where did you take the whores?’

  Shuffle the deck. Bluff.

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t.’

  ‘I saw you at a nightclub and on Vassall Road. Where did you take the whores?’

  ‘I wasn’t in charge of that. I just wanted to get Daiga Vītola’s mother and daughter free.’

  Lia looked Jansons straight in the eyes. She looked at him so she would not have to look at the gun. She saw how his face went hard.

  He’s going to shoot me soon.

  ‘For the last time,’ Jansons said. His voice was cold and sharp. ‘Where did you take the whores?’

  A thundering noise split the air. Lia realised that the blast had not come from Jansons’ gun. There was a puff of cement at his feet, and he collapsed with a yell.

  A bullet had struck Jansons in the right leg.

  Lia threw herself as flat as she could. She saw Jansons hesitate for a moment and then jump into the pit. As his right leg hit the floor, he snarled in pain.

  Lia turned to look behind her. Who fired the shot?

  She couldn’t see anyone over the wall of the pit.

  Then Jansons was next to her, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her up. Pressing his gun to her throat, he drew her close to him. He turned Lia between himself and the gunman as a shield.

  Everything went quiet. All Lia could hear were the pounding of her heart and Jansons’ panting.

  At the back wall of the warehouse, behind some storage shelves, she saw movement. Jansons stared at the head that flashed between the shelves and then withdrew behind them. Lia recognised Paddy.

  They heard Paddy’s loud voice.

  ‘Let her go. Let her go, and you can go yourself.’

  Lia felt Jansons’ grip on her tighten. He pressed the pistol even harder against her neck, into the spot where the back of her head met her spine.

  Silence fell again.

  Jansons took a step back, drawing Lia with him. He walked backwards, slowly, favouring his right leg. He forced Lia to follow pressed against him.

  Lia tried to slow him down, but his grip on her was too strong.

  He knows that Paddy won’t shoot as long as I’m between them.

  Slowly they retreated towards the end of the concrete pit and then up the ramp.

  ‘Stop!’ Paddy yelled.

  Jansons only sped up his steps after making it up the slope to the main warehouse floor. He glanced at the route to the door.

  Lia felt the hard barrel in the back of her neck, and infinite sorrow filled her suddenly.

  He’s going to get away. He’ll take me to the car and lock me in the boot again.

  ‘Stop!’ Paddy yelled, but Jansons already knew that Paddy wouldn’t shoot and continued moving towards the door.

  At the door, Jansons paused.

  Lia could feel his uncertainty. He shifted her position in front of him slightly. Lia guessed what he was thinking. Paddy was far away on the other side of the room, but were there reinforcements outside?

  Jansons cracked the door with his elbow and then glanced out. Lia saw a glimpse outside as well and her heart fell in disappointment.

  No cars. No police. No one.

  Jansons waited for a second and then made his decision. Placing his good left leg in the opening, he levered the door with his back and dragged Lia outside with him, glancing nervously back in Paddy’s direction as he did.

  Then the door behind Jansons swung open suddenly and he faltered, trying to keep his balance. Instinctively he loosened his grip on Lia to prevent himself from falling, and Lia collapsed to the ground. Jansons was not able to stay on his feet. He spun, dropping awkwardly to his knees and trying to stop his fall with his hands, searching for the attacker he expected to lash out at him.

  Outside the door stood Henriete Vītola, pointing a gun at him.

  Lia saw Henriete’s face as she looked at Jansons.

  Jansons lifted his weapon, but Henriete was too fast.

  She pulled the trigger so many times that the magazine emptied and the pistol began clicking ineffectually in her hand.

  When Lia opened her eyes, she saw Jansons’ bullet-riddled corpse lying across the threshold, half outside and half inside.

  Henriete stared at the bo
dy and the forming pool of blood.

  Henriete looked at Lia, and Lia knew what she was thinking.

  Bestija. The beast had been felled.

  39

  They were led to the car.

  Elza held Henriete under one arm. Paddy supported Lia on his shoulder.

  Nothing hit me, Lia thought. I’m fine.

  Henriete shot both of them. She is the strong one here.

  A little later she thought that if anyone were to see them, they would seem a strange troupe.

  In the car Lia and Henriete were placed in the back seat. This time Paddy put the weapon Henriete had used in a bag, which he took to the boot of the car.

  Paddy also went to retrieve Lia’s mobile phone. He found it in the warehouse, in the pocket of Jansons’ jacket. He returned Vanags’ sat-nav to his car after wiping his fingerprints from the device.

  They set off towards the Twineham Green campsite in a silence broken only by Paddy’s call to Mari.

  They were safe, Paddy said. Lia, Henriete, Elza, all of them. Olafs Jansons was dead.

  Mari announced she was setting off to meet them and would tell Scott and Anderson to stand down.

  When Paddy pulled into the camping area, it was already late in the evening.

  The camper vans waiting in the darkness were an unreal sight. The light from their windows shone far into the surrounding fields, and when Paddy stopped the car, they all sat there for a moment to take in the effect. It was as if the muddy, deserted caravan site had come to life, and the circle of light around the camper vans seemed to be protecting them.

  The mood in the larger camper van was warm. The women had all called home to Latvia during the day. The vehicle had been filled with weeping and squeals of joy. Berg had made food – pasta and vegetable sauce. They had opened several bottles of wine.

  When the women saw Henriete and her bloody shoulder, a concerned confusion broke out, but Elza informed them that no one was in any danger and all Henriete needed was a little patching up. As if by mutual agreement, none of them told what had happened.