“I need help,” Natalia appealed to them first in Russian, but the men just stared at her blankly. “Help!” she repeated in English. “I need help!” She desperately motioned for them to follow her.
The older officer opened the back door of the patrol car. “Içeriye girmek,” he said.
“Nyet!” Natalia responded, shaking her head.
The officer straightened himself, standing taller as he reaching for a billy club attached to his belt. He pulled out the club and used it to point at the back seat.
“No!” she shouted. “You must help me!”
“Arabaya binip!” he replied.
“But my friends!” Natalia pointed up the street. She took a few steps in the direction she had come from. The officer moved into her way, blocking her path and shaking his head.
“No!” he said. “In car! You in car!” He pushed her backwards.
The crowd of onlookers gathered on the sidewalk to watch the drama unfold as the younger officer came around to assist his partner. “It ok.” He placed a hand on Natalia’s forearm but she pulled away fiercely.
“No! Not ok! Not ok! My friends, they need help!”
The demeanor of the older officer took on a sudden intensity. He holstered his club and grabbed her left wrist, squeezing tightly. Before Natalia could react he swung her arm behind her back and spun her around. With his other hand he took hold of her right bicep and shoved her toward the car.
“Stop!” Natalia cried out. “Listen to me! Please!” She dug her feet into the asphalt but the man shoved her downwards and into the back seat where she landed in a heap. The younger officer slammed the door shut behind her. Natalia sat bolt upright and went for the handle but there was none. She was locked in. She pounded on the glass. “Listen to me, please!” Tears cascaded down her cheek. She’d come so far…
The officers stood on the sidewalk chatting nonchalantly. The older officer seemed to take no more notice of her, his anger gone. Only the younger one stole an occasional glance. “Drive me to the station, at least!” she begged. If these two wouldn’t listen to her, maybe someone else would. A supervisor. A captain. Someone had to hear her. Someone had to help. The younger officer man made a comment to his partner, who shrugged and then slowly moved back around the car, opening the driver’s door and taking his place behind the wheel. The young officer climbed in on the passenger side, turning to give Natalia a nervous smile through a Plexiglas divider.
The car pulled away from the curb and they moved slowly down the street, the driver rambling on as if Natalia simply didn’t exist. They turned a corner and drove down a side street, watching as pedestrians put their heads down and scurried along trying not to be noticed. Natalia’s anxiety grew as they meandered through the neighborhood with no apparent destination. The sun had been up for roughly half an hour when they passed the same spot on the boulevard where they had first picked her up.
“Where are we going?!” she shouted through a few small holes in the divider.
“Sessiz!” the driver yelled back. She didn’t understand the language, but the tone was clear enough. Natalia sank into her seat, closing her eyes and praying that Sonia and the other girls were safe. If Dusan or Ludmilla realized Natalia was gone they would call Zigic. Goran Zigic. The misogynistic psychopath who “owned” them. She’d seen his brutality at work the very first day, when he’d raped Helena as a demonstration of his power. She’d heard more stories since. This was a man whose greatest glee came from inflicting pain on others. Natalia knew that she had to stay in the moment, to keep her wits about her. If only she could get someone with authority to help her, she might yet save them all.
When the car finally stopped at a run-down police station, Natalia felt a cautious sense of relief. At last they were getting somewhere. The younger officer opened the back door and helped her climb out, using one hand to make sure she didn’t bang her head on the roof. Inside the station, a few more officers sat hunched over desks, hardly looking up as Natalia was led past. In the back of the room, a guard opened a solid steel door and then escorted Natalia on through into a chamber of cells. Prisoners sneered and made catcalls. In a far corner was another steel door. Her escort peered through a peephole before unbolting a large metal latch and opening the door. With a tilt of his head he motioned for Natalia to go on through.
“But, I must speak to someone!” Natalia pleaded. “Does nobody speak Russian here? Or English?!”
The officer pointed through the door this time. Natalia stood where she was until he gave her a light push on the back. She took two steps inside and he slammed the door shut, latching it behind her. “Please!” Natalia shouted again, but it was too late. He was already gone. In her daring escape she had succeeded in moving from one prison to another.
The cell was four meters square and filled with other women. A stifling odor of human excrement hung in the air. A hole in the floor served as a toilet. Beside it, water dripped from a rusted spigot into a metal bucket. Natalia’s cellmates eyed her from seats on wooden benches lining the walls. A few lay sprawled asleep on the concrete floor. They were a forlorn-looking mix of homeless, drunks and prostitutes. A woman in one corner gently sobbed to herself. Another, aged and plump in filthy, ragged clothing sat leaning against a wall, snoring softly. Beside her was a skinny girl in a bright red tube top and tight black shorts. She had fishnet stockings on her legs and a languorous look in her eyes. Between these two women was a narrow space, not quite wide enough to sit. The girl sighed and made some room.
“Thank you,” Natalia said in Russian.
“You’re welcome,” the woman replied.
Natalia squeezed into the space, trying not to choke on the debilitating stench of alcohol and urine that came from the sleeping woman beside her. Lifting her feet off of the cold, damp floor, Natalia held her arms around her knees and tried to figure out what to do next.
Chapter Eleven
“How long have I been here?” Natalia asked with a start as she opened her eyes. She’d dozed off, and without windows in the cell it was impossible to gauge whether it was night or day. Her muscles ached from sitting cramped between the others. She was cold in her flimsy clothing and she was hungry. Her only respite from thirst had come from cupping her hands under the spigot.
“It shouldn’t be long,” said the girl beside her in native Russian. “They usually let us out before they have to feed us, though you never know.”
“But they haven’t even charged me with anything!” said Natalia. “Why am I even here? All I was doing was walking down the street!”
“I suppose you were sleepwalking, not street walking.”
“Are you one to talk?
“At least I don’t claim otherwise.”
“I don’t think you understand.”
The girl looked Natalia up and down. “What’s to understand?!”
“I was kidnapped!” Natalia thought she detected just a hint of compassion, but the girl said no more. The woman on Natalia’s right stirred on the bench and then farted loudly, spawning shouted insults in various languages, none of which Natalia understood. The offending party merely crossed her arms and nodded back off to sleep.
“What about you?” Natalia asked her new acquaintance.
“What about me?”
“Why are you here?”
“Why do you think? It’s all just a game. They pull us off the streets and lock us up every now and then so they feel like they’re doing something.”
“I don’t mean why you’re in jail. I mean here in Istanbul.”
The girl seemed at pains to explain the obvious. “I earn more money in one night than I do in a month back home.”
“Oh,” Natalia answered. “So you came here by choice.”
The girl’s expression showed a hint of shame. “You have to get by in this world, don’t you?”
“It was just a question.” Natalia turned her attention to the rest of their downtrodden cellmates. How could Natalia Nicolaeva have ended up
among them? And how would she ever get home? It was beginning to feel like she never would.
The prisoners flinched when the bolt in the lock screeched suddenly. The door swung open to reveal two new guards. Both wore the same blue uniforms and hats. One held a nightstick in his hand and looked around the room before using it to point at women one at a time. “Siz, siz, siz, siz…” He ended with Natalia’s neighbor.
“I guess my time is up,” said the girl.
“Ve siz,” the guard pointed to Natalia.
“You, too,” the girl added.
“That’s it, I can go?” Natalia asked.
“You can go.”
One after the other, the chosen ones filed out of the cell and on into the police station itself. “What is your name?” Natalia asked.
“Marina.”
“Thank you, Marina.”
“For what?”
“A sympathetic ear.”
“Oh, no, this is not the place for sentimentality.”
“Maybe that’s all I have left.”
Marina joined a line with some of the other girls to get their possessions back. Natalia stood beside her, unsure what to do next. What was going on back at the brothel? Surely she’d be missed by now. She looked around the station until her eyes came to rest on the young officer from the previous night. He sat at a desk, concentrating on some papers that seemed to make little sense to him. There was something about his demeanor that told Natalia he might be trusted. They were about the same age, for one thing, and unlike some of the others he seemed as yet untainted by life as a policeman. There was a kindness in him that Natalia recognized. But would he help her? Before she had a chance to find out, she felt Marina’s hand on her shoulder.
“If you need anything.” Marina held out a business card. Natalia took the card and looked it over; a photo of Marina striking a seductive pose, with one hand caressing her fishnets.
“Thank you.” Natalia closed her fingers around the card.
“Good luck to you,” Marina added.
Natalia nodded and then tentatively walked across the room and approached the young officer at his desk. The man was so engrossed in his papers that he failed to even notice her. Natalia cleared her throat to get his attention. When he looked up, he smiled lightly as he realized who she was. “Hello,” he said. “Russia Girl.”
“Yes, Russia Girl,” she replied. “Does anybody here speak Russian? Or English? Do you speak English?”
The man gave a nod and held up one hand, signaling her to wait. He stood and walked through a door into a back room. Natalia heard him speaking to someone else and then he reappeared, motioning for Natalia to follow. She joined him in the other room where another officer sat behind a much larger desk. This man appeared to be in his mid-40’s, with closely-cut hair and a military bearing. A nametag on his chest read E. Tozar. He looked at Natalia with suspicion as the younger officer continued his explanation. Tozar nodded and then gruffly dismissed the man with a wave of the hand. The young officer hesitated, looking at Natalia as though he wanted to say something. Was he trying to warn her? Or calm her fears? Tozar barked at him and the younger man replied timidly and then left the room.
“Please, sit,” Tozar said in Russian, with a strong Turkish accent. He held a hand toward a chair in front of his desk.
“Thank you.” Finally, Natalia was getting somewhere. Someone with authority who could, and apparently would, actually listen to her. Perhaps all hope was not lost after all.
“How can I help you?” Tozar folded his hands together on his desk.
“I was kidnapped,” Natalia started. “A whole group of us was sold into slavery and forced into prostitution.”
Tozar seemed unimpressed. “How did you get away?”
“Over the roof. I used a sheet to climb up. But the rest of the girls, they’re still being held. My friend, she’s pregnant! If they find out…”
“I can write up a report,” Tozar said.
“A report? What is a report going to do for me?!” Natalia responded with venom.
Tozar shrugged. “How exactly did you say you escaped?” He fiddled with a pen. “With a sheet, you say?”
“You don’t believe me?” She was incredulous.
Tozar sat in silence for a moment. “I don’t disbelieve you. Where is this house, where you say they kept you?”
Natalia held up her hands. “I don’t know. Near where your officers picked me up. The man who spoke to you just now; he knows where I was. I could find the house if you take me back to that place.”
The officer pulled out a pad of paper. “What is your name?”
“Natalia. Natalia Nicolaeva.”
“And where are you from?” He jotted her answers on the pad.
“Transnistria.”
“Where is that?”
“It’s…” her frustration showed. “Moldova.”
“Where is your passport?”
“It was taken from me, when I was kidnapped.”
“You know I can lock you up for failing to have the proper immigration papers?”
“I just told you, my passport was taken!” Natalia was losing patience. “Do you think I am making all of this up?! Why would I do that?!”
Tozar considered this possibility. “Do you know the names of the people who held you?”
“Yes. Goran Zigic,” Natalia spat the name. “He was the leader.”
The officer placed his pen on the desk and looked directly at Natalia. “Goran Zigic. I know of this man. You can take me to him?”
“I think I can find the house.” Natalia allowed herself a small glimmer of hope. “I don’t know if he will be there. He only comes around once in a while.”
Tozar picked up a phone on his desk and dialed. He had a brief, heated conversation in Turkish before hanging up abruptly. “Come with me.” He stood and led Natalia through the door. “Don’t you have any shoes?”
“No. I left the house without them.”
Tozar took her to the property room, where the officer behind the metal screen sat reading a magazine. Tozar explained something to him and the property man took a look down at her feet. He walked back along some shelves, picking through a few boxes before pulling out a pair of men’s brown leather shoes. He brought these back and slid them through the grate. Tozar picked them up and handed them to Natalia. She looked at the shoes quizzically before sliding a foot into one of them. It was a few sizes too big, but it would do. She laced it up tight and then placed Marina’s business card in the bottom of the other before putting it on as well.
Across the room, Tozar shouted a question to the younger officer. The man stood as he answered, looking longingly at Natalia as he did so. He seemed to want to come along, but was quickly rebuked and sat back down.
“Let’s go.” Tozar led Natalia outside to the street, where a small fleet of police cars were parked in a row. He walked to the newest of the cars and opened the passenger door for Natalia, who climbed in and sat down.
“We will go alone?” Natalia was worried. “They have guards, with guns. It is very dangerous.”
“This is all the backup I need.” Tozar patted a pistol in a holster at his waist. He walked around the front of the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, then stared the engine and backed out. This was Natalia’s cavalry, off to the rescue. She tried to remain hopeful, and yet, despite this man didn’t inspire much confidence. It seemed that all she could do at this point was to hope for the best.
Chapter Twelve
“You remind me of my daughter.” Tozar glanced at Natalia’s legs as they drove down a busy avenue. Natalia pulled on her slip, trying to further cover herself. Weaving through traffic, Tozar gave an occasional short burst on his siren. “She’s in college. In Ankara,” he continued. “If she did what you do, I’d kill her. But she knows better. She’s going to make something of herself. She studies history.”
“You must be very proud.”
“I think it is terrible. History,” he s
coffed. “Maybe she will meet a good man there. My wife, she sits at home all day. She is Russian. Like you. It is why I speak this language. I met her in the jail, too.” He glanced back toward Natalia to gauge her reaction. “What do you think of my country?”
“I don’t know.” Natalia shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I have seen very little.”
“You don’t like it?” He showed offense.
“It is a very beautiful place.” Natalia gripped the door handle as the car bobbed and swerved.
Tozar showed a smile. “Yes, it is very beautiful. I think so.” He slowed the car and stopping by the side of the road. “Is this where my men picked you up?”
Natalia looked out the window, trying to recognize a familiar landmark. The sidewalk was crowded with pedestrians and all of the shops were open. The road was filled with cars, honking and jostling for position. She saw an intersection up ahead. On the corner was a small store, where a man sat out front on an upturned plastic carton. “That market looks familiar. Go a few blocks further.”
Tozar flashed the lights on top of the car and gave a quick blast on his siren as he moved down the street. Natalia’s spirits rose. She was coming, if only Sonia and the others could hold on. If all went well, they would soon be free. The nightmare would be over at last. “Turn left here!” Natalia said, and Tozar cut down the small, narrow street side-street. She recognized the building, with the balcony on the fifth floor now empty. The sight of her place of torture and confinement made her feel lightheaded. “This is it.”
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