CHERUB: People's Republic (23 page)

The guy who’d been behind the wire spread himself out to catch Ning at the top of the stairs. She barged into his chest with enough speed to knock him back. He wasn’t as bulky as the thugs downstairs, but he still had no problem grabbing Ning and bouncing her off the wall.

He shouted something in Czech, but Ning had no idea what. As she twisted out of his grip Ning saw a gun holstered under his jacket. She might have thought twice if she’d seen it a second earlier, but she’d spotted an opening.

Ning’s first punch hit the man in the ribs. He stumbled back, giving Ning enough space to attack properly. The man was too tall for her to be able to get much power behind a head shot, so she went for his stomach. After five hard punches in two seconds, Ning had her opponent gasping for breath against the far wall.

She hadn’t trained in a year, but she hadn’t lost her fighter’s instinct. As soon as the man crumpled forward, she went for the temple. The thinnest part of the skull is the most vulnerable and Ning only took one good shot to leave her opponent sprawled unconscious over sticky carpet.

Boxing gloves don’t just protect the person being hit and Ning’s knuckles hurt so bad she could hardly move her fingers as she looked around, planning her next move. Downstairs she could hear men shouting and Chun Hei in tears.

Ning looked at the holstered gun, considering a rescue mission, but she’d never fired a gun in her life. She had no idea how many men were down there or what kinds of weapons they had. Her only realistic option was to run.

Ning raced outside. In one direction was the parking lot and the highway, in the other an access road, with shabby one-storey houses and a burned-out barn in the tall grass beyond. With no strategy other than getting clear before someone came after her, Ning sprinted off.

As she neared the end of the alleyway a man sprang out of the tall grass, waving his arms.

‘Are you Ning?’ he asked, in English.

Startled by her own name, Ning stopped running but kept back, with her fists bunched. The man was mixed race Asian-European, in his twenties with green streaks in his hair.

‘How can you know me?’ Ning asked, keeping one suspicious eye on the stranger and the other on the building she’d just left.

‘Name’s Kenny. I was waiting for you to arrive,’ he explained, speaking perfect English. ‘Luckily I was taking a piss when those goons turned up and I squeezed out of a back window.’

Kenny beckoned Ning with his arm. She thought for half a second before stepping into the tall grass.

‘Keep down,’ Kenny said, as he went down on all fours.

The ground was strewn with litter and Ning’s knuckles were agony as she crawled along, a few centimetres behind Kenny’s boots. After thirty metres they jumped down into a concrete drainage channel, with graffiti sprayed up the sides and all kinds of debris underfoot.

Although Kenny wasn’t very old, he was breathless and stopped moving before breaking into a rattly smoker’s cough.

‘What was going on back there?’ Ning asked. ‘The guy tied to a chair, was that Derek?’

‘Yeah,’ Kenny said. ‘They’re Russian mafia. They asked Derek to take Russian women to England for them, but they won’t pay what he wants. What you saw was their technique for getting him to lower his prices.’

Kenny started walking briskly along the ditch as Ning asked her next question. ‘Where does that leave me and Chun Hei?’

‘Look out for syringes,’ Kenny warned, as he pointed one out. ‘Step wrong and they’ll go right through your sole. I wouldn’t worry about Chun Hei. Knowing her sweet-talk, the Russians will end up buying a lorry load of cheap carpet tiles off her.’

‘And me?’

‘Derek’s the boss, but I run the route,’ Kenny said.

‘So there’s a regular schedule of trucks going to Britain?’ Ning asked.

‘Not exactly regular, but there’s always drivers coming and going and over time a guy like me gets to know which ones are reliable. As far as you’re concerned, I’ve got your pick-up set for tonight and there’s nothing any Russian can do to stop it. There’s just the small matter of my two and a half thousand euros.’

‘Chun Hei was going to talk to Derek about that. My uncle will pay three thousand when he collects me in England.’

Kenny stopped dead, looking unhappy. ‘I heard nothing about that. Do you have money or not?’

‘Three thousand when I arrive,’ Ning said firmly.

‘I’ve got a situation,’ Kenny said, shaking his head. ‘Derek is over there getting battered, you understand? When people pay on arrival, their money comes back through him. But for all I know, he won’t even be my boss this time tomorrow. If I’m lucky I’ll end up working for a bunch of Russian psychos who’ll pay me less and treat me worse. At worst, they’re gonna want me dead.’

Ning had money, but she was reluctant to hand it to a guy she’d just met, who could easily run off with it.

‘I need money to book myself the Easy Jet back to England,’ Kenny said. ‘Keep my head down for a few months. Work in my ma’s cafe and generally not tangle with any crazy Russians. So I appreciate you’re a kid, but you must have
some
money for food and shit. I’m just asking for a taste, you hear?’

Kenny’s desperation seemed real enough, but Ning wanted to hang on to as much money as she could.

‘All I have is a few hundred US dollars.’

Kenny pondered this. ‘I can change dollars easily enough. How many is a few?’

‘About four hundred,’ Ning said. ‘I’ll pay you three. That leaves a hundred for me when I get to England.’

‘Show me.’

Ning had split her money as Chun Hei had recommended. She leaned against the wall of the trench, pulled off her trainer and peeled out three hundred and fifty dollars tucked beneath the inner sole.

‘Kinda smells of feet,’ Ning said, as she passed it over. Then she made a big thing out of rummaging in her jeans for what she’d said was her last fifty.

‘Smells like money and it’s enough for a flight,’ Kenny said happily. ‘Unfortunately my wheels are parked outside Derek’s place, but we’re only a couple of Ks from where I can put you on a lorry heading for Britain. You up for walkies?’

29. CHIPS

The truck stop wasn’t designed for pedestrian access, so Kenny and Ning took their lives in their hands, straddling roadside barriers and carving through six lanes of speeding traffic. The place was recently built, with a cheap hotel, shops and two restaurants.

Ning’s eyes were drawn to a parked cop car as they pushed through a hedge and walked briskly across tarmac marked out with truck-sized parking bays.

‘Don’t sweat over the fuzz,’ Kenny said, as he headed for a burger joint. ‘Derek keeps them happy.’

Kenny had a pal called Steve, who was skinny and kind of weird looking. They found him in a quiet corner tucking down a bacon cheeseburger and fries.

‘Watch what you say in front of this one,’ Kenny warned, as he pointed at Ning. ‘She’s got perfect English.’

‘Looks bad with Derek,’ Steve said, sounding depressed. ‘I told him not to dick with those Russian headcases, but he wouldn’t have it. You think we’re even gonna get paid for this?’

‘I reckon it’ll blow over,’ Kenny said. ‘Whatever happens someone will need lads to run the route.’

‘You said you’d go home sooner than work for Russians,’ Steve said.

‘I’ve reconsidered,’ Kenny said. ‘I’ll stick by you, mate, don’t lose any sleep over old Kenny.’

Ning knew Kenny was lying. But was he lying to Steve about staying, or had he lied to her just to shake her down for a few hundred dollars? Whatever the truth, Kenny clearly wasn’t happy having Ning around and pointed out two women sat a few tables across.

‘Go sit with the old grannies,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you some chips in a minute.’

Ning felt uncomfortable as she joined the two women. One was a Chinese lady called Mei; she was about forty and looked like she’d led a hard life. The other was a slim Bangladeshi who spoke English with a posh accent.

The women said hello to Ning, but their expressions were disapproving, most likely because she was young and they suspected she was destined to become some paedophile’s plaything. Ning fidgeted with drinking straws and listened to the women’s conversation. It hadn’t occurred to either that she might understand English and they chatted away like she wasn’t even there.

Mei was travelling to Britain to work; she’d apparently spent years working in a biscuit factory near Birmingham, only to be deported after an immigration department swoop. The Bangladeshi didn’t say her name, but told Mei that she was returning to Britain after going home to look after an elderly relative.

Mei seemed impressed as the Bangladeshi explained that she was a fully qualified British driving instructor, who could earn twenty pounds an hour teaching girls to drive in Southall on the outskirts of London.

Kenny threw a packet of soggy chips and a can of Coke on the table and gave Ning a wink. ‘Thanks for keeping your trap zipped,’ he whispered. ‘Best if nobody knows I’m going until I’ve gone, you understand?’

Mei took a few chips when Ning offered, but the Bangladeshi lady recoiled. ‘They’re probably fried in beef fat,’ she explained.

The Russian gangsters had rattled Ning, but her mind was eased by this scene with the two middle-aged women, who apparently regarded being smuggled across borders as little more than an inconvenience.

‘Steve’s had a call from your driver,’ Kenny said. ‘Truck’s only about six Ks out, so if you ladies need to use the shitter you’d best make it quick.’

‘Did you hear the route?’ the Bangladeshi lady asked.

‘Straight through Germany and France. Ferry from Dieppe to Newhaven. He’s a good driver, used him a million times.’

But the two older women looked unhappy.

‘What’s so bad?’ Ning asked, surprising them by speaking English.

‘Six hours at sea,’ Mei explained. ‘The Calais–Dover route is much faster, or the Eurotunnel.’

‘But I’ve heard Eurotunnel is most risky,’ the Bangladeshi woman said. ‘More searches and suchlike.’

‘I just hope the driver gives us fresh air when he takes his break,’ Mei said.

‘How long will it take?’ Ning asked.

‘Sixteen hours if we’re lucky,’ Mei said. ‘But it can be much more if the driver stops overnight, or you have to wait for the ferry.’

Ning followed the two older women to the bathroom. Steve was in a big hurry when they came out because their truck had pulled in earlier than expected. By the time they reached it, Kenny had opened up the back doors. He tied a scarf over his face, before reaching in and grabbing a lidded plastic drum. He then waddled a few steps before tipping it up, spilling a stew of turds and urine around the base of a small bush.

As Ning gagged from the stench, Steve ran across from a nearby car, carrying a crate of half-litre water bottles and a carrier bag filled with chicken pies, chocolate bars and individually wrapped muffins. Someone inside moaned that it was hot.

‘I can’t leave the doors open,’ Steve said unsympathetically. ‘There’s cops swarming, now get back, people need to get in.’

Mei looked unhappy as she threw her bag into the truck. Ning came next and was shocked by the heat and a smell that was like a blocked toilet mixed with bad socks. The official cargo was boxes of copier paper, stacked a metre high on wooden pallets. There was about sixty centimetres between stacks of paper and one or two bodies could wedge into each gap.

Fifteen people were inside already. There was one family with three small boys curled around them and two young men. The rest were all pretty young things aged between fifteen and twenty.

‘Find a good spot before the doors close,’ Mei told Ning, in Chinese.

A sweat-soaked girl touched Ning’s hand as she walked by. ‘Are we near the ferry now?’

‘Czech–German border,’ Ning said, to the girl’s obvious disappointment.

A second later the back doors clanged and they were in darkness. The only light came through small vents in the ceiling. Someone lit a small torch to help the new arrivals find space. Mei took Ning’s hand as she felt her way forward, apologising when they stepped over someone or had to shift a piece of luggage.

‘This isn’t bad,’ Mei said, when they were almost up by the driver’s cab. ‘If we squeeze together, we won’t get thrown about when the truck moves.’

The air was so hot that Ning could hardly breathe. She didn’t understand how anyone could eat in such a stench, but she heard muffins and pies being torn from wrappings. Someone down by the doors was banging on them, demanding they be left open until the truck moved.

‘Shut your yap or I’ll come in and belt you one,’ Steve shouted.

Mei’s body fat made a good cushion and Ning settled with her head against her arm.

‘Keep hold of your backpack,’ Mei said. ‘Someone robbed eighty pounds from me the last time I came over.’

‘It’s
so
hot,’ Ning said. ‘I’m dripping already.’

‘Mind over matter,’ Mei said, as she patted Ning’s leg. ‘Breathe slow and keep sipping your water. It’s the ones that yell and panic who pass out.’

As Ning shuffled about to get comfortable, the engine came to life. There was a hiss of hydraulic brakes and a clank of metal as the big truck rolled out.