Someone Elses Daughter (11 page)

III

Nina was listening with her ear pressed against the locked door of Igor’s room for about 20 minutes after taking the bath. She had wrapped a towel around her and simply waited. The hand gun was hidden in the bathroom, under the soil pipe of the lavatory basin. Eventually, she heard the external door open and shut with a loud slam. Nina had learned that this was one way that a pimp told a whore when a customer’s time was up. Her heart was thumping loud enough to hear, and she wondered whether to go and get the gun. There was some movement on the other side of the door. After a couple more minutes, Zelda was speaking, and then the customer, and then Vadim Kasharin answered. Vadim Kasharin! She hadn’t expected that. She heard the external door open and shut again, and presumed that the customer had left. Then she heard Igor’s voice. “We’ll see to the bitch now.”

Nina ran to the bed and threw herself upon it. The lock clicked and she looked up as both Kasharin and Igor came into the room. Kasharin didn’t greet her. He merely strolled across to the bed and tore the towel from her body. She turned, huddled over in a foetal position, cringing away. Kasharin inhaled sharply when he saw the state of her back.

“Fuck, man, you’ve made a real mess of her. She won’t be able to work for days.”

“I had to teach the cunt a lesson.”

Nina felt Kasharin’s cool fingers on her back, tracing over the cuts where the metal studs of the harness straps had bit into her. Then she flinched when he touched her arse and thighs, which were a mass of lacerations and fiery purple red stripes where the wire coat hanger had flogged her. “This will probably scar her for life,” Kasharin said.

“Yeah, well, her arse will be living testimony of what happens to whores who dare to mess with me. I’ll show you something else...” He paused and reached into his pocket, taking out a small paper bag. “This will give her something to think about.”

Nina hadn’t even considered that she would be permanently scarred by the beating. It wasn’t so much the actual scars that immediately bothered her, although that was bad enough. She was horrified by the very thought that the evidence of her humiliation and degradation would remain with her, a constant reminder, etched into her flesh.

“A pepper? What the fuck are you going to do with that?”

Nina turned and saw that Igor had taken a large red chilli pepper from the paper bag. He was holding it up in front of Kasharin’s eyes with an evil smile on his face. “This is a good way to keep order with women. Hold her arse cheeks apart.”

“She’s taken enough already.”

“Zelda!” Igor called out, ignoring Kasharin’s words. “Come here, I’ve got a job for you. It is good that you see this.”

Zelda, now wearing a black bra and t-back, walked diffidently into the room. “Yes, Igor?”

“I want you to take this lovely hot pepper and stuff it up Nina’s arse. Can you do that?”

“Yes, of course.” Zelda said without hesitation.

Then Igor’s rough hands roughly prized Nina’s tortured buttocks apart. She screeched and squirmed. A slender finger pushed into her anus, seeming to pry her open, and the pepper was being pressed against her. She felt its stinging heat on the tender puckered purse of her anus almost immediately. Then though, the chilli was forced inside her, and steady warmth quickly grew into raging fiery torment. Nina screeched and wailed, her arse thrashing from side to side. The pain was something she had never hitherto imagined. Almost without thinking, she found herself running round the room, desperate for some place to escape the agony in her arse. The furnace inside her grew to an inferno until she felt sure that it would burn through her intestines. “My God!” Zelda breathed in awe, watching Nina’s agonised contortions. Trying to get some composure, despite the agony, Nina dashed to the bathroom. She sat on the lavatory pan and desperately struggled to dislodge the pepper.

Igor was doubled over with mirth. “Man, that was funny,” Igor gurgled.

“You’re a sick fuck,” Kasharin said.

After some minutes, Nina emerged from the bathroom, her face pale and streaked with tears. She was still naked. Igor grinned widely as he turned to look at her but the smile disappeared abruptly from his face. Nina was holding the pistol and it was pointed directly at his groin. “What the fuck?” he said, starting towards her.

When she fired the gun it was almost as if things were happening in slow motion. The recoil surprised her, jarring her wrist, and Igor seemed to scream before the loud report of the gunshot echoed round the room. Then he crumpled to the floor, clutching his groin. Nina calmly pointed the gun at Vadim Kasharin.

“No, please, Nina,” Kasharin pleaded, his eyes wild. Then he dashed for the door, just as bullet slammed into the wall near his head. He didn’t stop. He ran for his life, out of the external door and down the stairs.

“Fuck,” Zelda said in terror, backing away and glancing down at the spreading pool of blood seeping from Igor as he lay huddled on the floor.

“I’m getting out of here,” Nina said. “Do you want to come?”

Zelda looked at her, seemingly unable to speak, but she shook her head wildly, still backing away from Nina. Nina nodded and she left the room, every step bringing fresh pain. She went to her own room and quickly pulled on the grey leisure pants and baggy tee-shirt, and then found a pair of shoes. With that, Nina Virtsin walked through the open door of the apartment and dragged her tortured body down five flights of stairs, pausing for a rest a couple of times, despite her desperation to get away from there. A couple of doors opened slightly, and unseen eyes peeked out, then the doors quickly shut again. Only when she was about to emerge onto the street did Nina hide the gun, stashing it in the waistband of her pants. She walked as far as she could from the area (although only a couple of blocks away, in reality) before tossing the gun into a rubbish bin. Then she only managed to stagger hundred more yards or so before collapsing in the gutter.

IV

As her head cleared, Nina gradually became aware of the vague smell of almonds and ethanol. She heard a woman’s voice urging her to drink some water. For a few moments she thought it was Anna, Igor’s other whore. Then, though, the woman said, “My name is Margot. Can you hear me?”

Nina opened her eyes and saw a woman clad in green and white, standing over her, offering a beaker of water with a drinking straw. She seemed to be on a narrow platform, a trolley, and it was higher than a normal bed. Her mouth was dry and her tongue seemed to be swollen. However, she raised her head from the hard pillow and took a sip of water through the straw. Beside the nurse, another woman stood, clad in a brown leather jacket with a shawl-like scarf wrapped round her neck.

“Do you know where you are?” the nurse asked.

Nina gave a small shake of her head and lay back on the pillow.

“You are in hospital. Can you tell me your name?”

“I am Nina Virtsen,” she said, turning her head slightly to look at the nurse. “How did I get here?”

The woman, Margot, leaned froward and said gently, “You’re safe in this hospital. I’m from an organisation that maintains 14 beds here for medical and psychological rehabilitation of trafficked women. We have many friends in the red light areas. Someone alerted us about your condition and we picked you up and brought you here. You were very badly beaten.”

Nina nodded. She knew from the hazy feeling of well-being that she was heavily sedated, but her soreness of her wounded back seemed to bleed through the pain-killing drugs.

“We counted twenty-five lacerations on your back. Do you know what kind of instrument caused it?” the nurse asked.

“It was wire. A wire coat hanger.”

“Wire! My God!” the young nurse breathed.

“Pimps often use wire coat hangers to flog women,” Margot said.

“Should we call the police?”

“No police,” Nina raised her head from the pillow in alarm. It was the most movement she could manage.

“No, no police,” Margot said firmly. “The police can’t be relied upon. She’d probably end up worse off than before.”

Nina nodded and then she let her head fall back onto the pillow again. At that time, she was mainly concerned that the police would be seeking her as a murder suspect, although she had no intention of telling Margot that. Nina’s main hope was that Vadim Kasharin wouldn’t dare to contact the police. It seemed entirely possible from the little she knew of these gangsters that they would simply dispose of Igor’s body, make it disappear, just as they made countless girls disappear. She fervently hoped so. Even in her befuddled state, Nina knew that, if the police were involved, then the girl Zelda would almost certainly give evidence to support the people who enslaved her.

“I had two friends with me. Anna and Renata... They were abducted too.”

“When?”

“About a week ago.”

Margot shook her head indicate hopelessness, but she drew a notebook from the pocket of her leather jacket. “Can you give me their full names, Nina? And their addresses.... I’ll do what I can, and at least notify their families about what’s happened to them.”

Chapter Five

Salko’s Investigation

I

Georgy Nikitin burst into Borzov’s office without knocking. “We have news of Anna, Boss! One of her friends managed to get away from the kidnappers and she’s been picked up by voluntary workers.”

“Voluntary workers?”

“It’s called La Luna – a non-Governmental organisation working to prevent trafficking in women.”

“My office is contacted by an organisation to prevent trafficking? How ironic, Georgy!”

Nikitin smiled grimly. “This girl somehow got separated from the others. She apparently has some information to help us on our way, though.”

“The police?”

“No. This particular anti-trafficking organisation has little time for the police, apparently.” Georgy fell silent for a while as he watched Borzov mulling over the situation. Eventually, he said, “We can’t call the police either. I’ve asked to speak with the girl who gave the information. Her name is Nina Virtsen. Does that mean anything to you?”

“No,” Viktor said, shaking his head. “I would know my daughter’s friends? Interview this girl and see what she knows.”

In less than two hours, Nikitin and Salko had visited Nina at the hospital and emptied her of information. She told them about the party, about Raisa Poda, Vadim Kasharin... Weak and befuddled by medication as she was, they were satisfied that Nina had told them all she knew.

II

Lev Salko stood behind a row of cars and discreetly watched as the stylishly dressed blonde woman made her way across the busy university car park. She was walking along an avenue of parked cars directly adjacent to Salko, and he walked in the adjacent rank, easily keeping pace with her but avoiding displaying any apparent interest in her. Then though, as she paused to delve in her bag, presumably for her car keys, Salko slipped between the vehicles and walked up to her.

“Good morning.”

She glanced up, closing her bag, car keys in hand. “Good morning.”

“Mrs Poda?”

“Yes?” She smiled. He saw that she was reasonably attractive, perhaps in her early thirties, and she wore fashionable clothes.

“Mrs Raisa Poda?” Salko sounded like an officious police officer.

“Do I know you?”

“Vadim sent me.”

“He wants to make another arrangement? I don’t wish to talk about it here.”

Salko smiled thinly and stepped closer to her, so closely that he could smell the light fragrance of her perfume. He slipped his left arm inside hers, and reaching across with his right hand to press a gun in her ribs. “I think we shall soon get to know each other very well, Mrs Poda,” he said. “Look friendly and don’t make a fuss or I won’t hesitate to shoot. Please believe me. Now, walk to your car.”

Raisa Latynina’ car, parked a few feet away, was a shiny black E Class Mercedes Coupe, low and sleek. Salko guided her to the passenger side, reaching to take the key fob from her hand and pressing the unlocking button. “A nice car,” he said as the indicator lights flashed. “Expensive on the salary of a Russian university lecturer.”

Raisa Poda made no reply. She was frightened. He could feel her shaking in his grasp. Salko was experienced at judging these things, and he instinctively knew that she was no hard-bitten gangsters’ woman. He had met enough of those. Such women were often tougher than the men. Not this one, though. She was in a daze of abject terror. Nevertheless, he took the bag from her - it was possible that even a respectable woman in Kiev could be carrying a mace spray, or even a gun. Salko opened the passenger door and thrust her into the low seat, and then slammed the door shut again. Hurrying round the front of the car, he took care to let her see his gun, pressed flat against his own chest now. She remained rigid, like a frightened rabbit, as he climbed into the driver’s seat and tossed her bag over his shoulder. He then engaged the central locking system, effectively imprisoning her in her own car.

“When did you last see Vadim Kasharin?” he asked casually, tearing her dress from neck to waist and then yanking her bra away.

She sat in shock, not attempting to cover her full breasts as they tumbled free.

“I saw him a few days ago,” she said, her voice so quiet that it was almost inaudible.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I saw Vadim a few days ago,” she said, more clearly.

Salko nodded in satisfaction. “Very well, get naked.”

“What?”

“I always want women naked when I interview them. Do it!”

Her eyes flashed in terror but she eased her butt from the seat and pushed her skirt down over her hips. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“I’m sure you will. Strip.” He started the engine of the car. “If you know what’s good for you, you will be butt naked by the time I leave this car park.”

He eased the car down the queue of parked cars and turned towards the exit. Raisa’s last garment hit the floor as the car swept out onto the road. Salko glanced at her. She was in good shape, with nice big tits and a reasonably trim waist.

“Vadim Kasharin... Where will we find him at this time of day?”

“He works the clubs at night. He’s probably still in bed.”

Salko smiled mirthlessly as he cast another sideways glance at her, and he turned the car onto the wide main drag through Moscow. There had been a time when he too was happy to languish in bed until midday. Now though, following years in Russian jails where guards routinely beat the prisoners awake with cudgels, he always woke early and alert.

“How old are you, Mrs Latynina?”

“I’m thirty-four,” she said.

“You are in good shape. And where is your husband?”

She hesitated before replying, and then said, “He’s probably dead. I don’t know for sure.”

“So, there’s no Mr Poda waiting at home, huh?”

“My mother and brother will report me missing. Where are you taking me?”

He realised that her mind was beginning to work again. That was impressive. Grabbing and stripping a woman in broad daylight usually fazes her for some time.

“I’m taking you to some people I know. By tomorrow evening you’ll be working on your back in a brothel in Israel servicing the rough migrant trade. They’ll pay me a poor price because of your age, but I will keep your nice new car.”

Raisa Poda vainly tried the door handle, even though she was naked and the car was travelling at more than 50kph. The door was locked, of course.

“I have money. Drive me to an ATM and I will give you all my money if you let me go.”

Salko looked across at her and smiled, reaching across to heft her breast in the palm of his hand. . “Thirty-four.... That’s a bit old for the traffickers, but not too old. They’ll get a few years work out of you until you’re a disease raddled whore.” He was silent for a while, as if concentrating on his driving, but occasionally he cast a sideways glance at her, assessing her state of mind. “Do you have your passport with you?” he finally asked.

“No, of course not,” she said. “Why are you doing this?”

“You know the sex trafficking trade,” he said with a shrug. “You are involved in it yourself, after all.”

“No!”

He slammed on brakes and the sudden forward-thrust nearly forced her head against the windscreen. “Yes, Mrs Poda!” he said, easing the car forward again and glancing in the rear view mirror at the long blare of a horn from the vehicle behind. “You lure girls to parties.”

She swallowed hard. After a couple of seconds, she said: “So that is what this is all about. I only did that a few times. I am paid to persuade attractive girls to go to private parties for wealthy businessmen. There is no crime in that. The girls have a good time, they like parties. What they choose to do there is up to them. I’m not their mother.”

“How do you get paid? How much?”

“I collect my money at the party. It depends how many girls I introduce.”

“I can imagine,” Salko said grimly, slowing his speed again. The traffic was getting congested up yonder, where the road veered to the right. He pulled into the lane of crawling vehicles. “I could hand you over to the police, of course. On the other hand, I prefer the poetic justice of killing you or selling you as a naked whore. So I warn you, Mrs Poda, you have until we reach the M8 highway to give me information and convince me... after that, it’s the point of no return and you’ll need to learn Hebrew. Who commissioned you to lure the girls?

“Lure!” she murmured, biting her lip, but he noted that she didn’t challenge his use of the word. “Different people contact me to make the arrangements. Some I recognise, others I don’t. I thought that’s why you had come to see me.”

“Put your feet up on the dash and spread your legs.”

“We’re in busy traffic,” she protested but, seeing his hard look, she obeyed. Her partly-shaven pussy was openly displayed in the low sports car. A large truck was beside them and the driver looked down at her. She closed her eyes. “Oh my God!”

“You know the Englishman?” Salko asked again, reaching to pat the gash of her sex and slipping his third finger inside her. “You are wet.”

“I don’t know any Englishman,” she said, closing her eyes against the violation.

“Tell me about Kasharin.”

“I knew Vadim Kasharin from when he was a student... Oh!” She paused with an involuntary exclamation as Salko expertly manipulated her clitoris. “He introduced me to the main organiser, a woman they call Tara.”

The truck driver sounded his horn and the traffic began to move again. His finger moved to press on the rose of her anus.

“Tara?”

“I don’t know her well, other than that she always pays me in US dollars at the parties.” Raisa grunted as Salko’s finger pushed into her arse. “Believe me, that’s all I know.”

“You simply delivered the girls, collected your money and then you left?”

“I arranged in advance for most of the women to go to the party, and checked their addresses, that kind of thing. Sometimes, though, I met more girls by chance and took them with me. I got a bonus.”

“And Anna Borzov?”

“Someone was particularly keen to meet her at the party.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Tara, I suppose.”

The car up ahead halted, skewed across the lane, flashing his indicator light, the driver’s arm raised from the open window with one finger aloft. Salko growled and, steering one-handed with the finger of his other hand up Raisa Poda’s arse, turned the Mercedes into the narrow gap beside the vehicle, squeezing past but scraping the paintwork along the rear corner of a large truck. He shrugged and looked across at Raisa, who merely winced and braced her splayed legs as his finger jabbed harder up her anus,

“Fucking drivers!” he said, moving forward again. “So you went to the parties, collected your money, and then immediately left.”

“Yes, of course. I have no interest in parties or in sleeping with rich businessmen.”

“You left before the girls were drugged and kidnapped.”

“I had no idea—.”

“You lie, Raisa.” He pushed his thumb into her cunt, leaning over to shake her by her entire sexual delta. “What did you think happened to them?”

Raisa began to weep. “It wasn’t my concern,” she said.

“Those girls will all be working as forced prostitutes now. I went to the apartment in Kropotkin Street... there was a party there a couple of weeks ago. You remember?” He glanced across and saw her eyes flash in recognition. “You won’t be surprised to know that the apartment was empty when I checked. It was rented for the one night only.”

“They use a different apartment each time. Look, I have nothing to do with these people. I’m just a teacher, earning some extra money in my spare time.”

The traffic was suddenly moving more freely and Salko removed his hand from her body, wiping it on her belly. He urged the Mercedes forward. “You’ll earn even more money where you’re going, but you won’t get to spend it yourself. Only a few minutes before we reach the M8, Mrs Poda... That gaping pussy of yours is soon going to get plenty of action.”

“I’ll show you where Vadim Kasharin lives,” she suddenly blurted.