Part 20 (1/2)

Thursday, 18 March 06.27 hrs

I woke up face down on the carpet. The sleeping bag was draped over me. I opened my eyes to see a pair of bare feet peeping out from under my rolled-up jeans. She leant over me, her hair frizzed almost into an Afro after sleeping on it wet. She had a brew in her hand. Her expression softened as she put the mug down beside me.

I tried to focus on my watch. At least I'd got a couple of hours in. I looked up at her groggily. 'You OK?'

She didn't reply. She looked even more like a waif with my clothes hanging off her.

I sat up, stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor, but I'd got used to that over the years. It's just a matter of how you position your head and shoulders and spread your legs to distribute the weight.

I tore a blank strip off the bottom of the A4 sheet that held Lilian's picture, grabbed one of the biros and wrote down an address.

I took a sip of the extra-sweet black tea and gave her a grin. Didn't they have any f.u.c.king cows east of Poland?

She retrieved her brew from the sink and went and sat on the airbed. Her knees came up to her chest. Her arms went round them. Her face was expressionless once more.

I had to get this thing moving. Bradley would be here at ten. By then I needed to have dealt with her, sorted myself out, and worked out exactly what I wanted him to do for me to get this job done.

As soon as we'd finished our brews, I pulled myself to my feet. 'Come on, let's go.'

I draped my bomber round her shoulders and coaxed her up. I took her hand and, gently but firmly, steered her to the door.

At last there was a reaction. Her eyes were like saucers. She was scared.

I opened the door for her and shooed her out. I let her go downstairs in front of me so I could check the telltales.

She stood s.h.i.+vering on the pavement in her bare feet while I locked up. I didn't replace the telltales in the door. I wasn't going to be long, and the less time I was exposed with her on the street, the better.

We started down Papaverhoek towards the main. I almost had to drag her. We pa.s.sed FilmNoord x.x.x. The white tarpaulins lining the market flapped and billowed in the distance. The morning traffic buzzed across the junction ahead of us.

I dug into my jeans for the wad and counted out about a hundred euros.

She looked at me blankly. I had to prise open her hand and shove the money into it. 'Take this. You've got to go.'

I handed her the strip of paper and made sure she focused on what I'd written. 'Go to the Radisson Hotel, Schiphol airport. Taxi - take a taxi, yeah?'

I ran my finger under the address and slowly repeated it.

'Radisson Hotel. Airport - Schiphol airport. You take a taxi, yeah?'

I pointed to the road that led to the nearest taxi rank. 'Taxi, that way ...'

I hadn't a clue if she totally understood me, but she got the general drift.

'A woman ...' I started signing like I thought she was deaf. 'A lady - with short blonde hair - will meet you. She will help you. Help you go home, yeah?'

Her eyes welled up. I could see she was trying not to, but she couldn't help it. The tears eventually fell.

I took off my Timberlands and dumped them on the ground next to her feet. She didn't move. I had to get hold of each of her ankles in turn, lift it into a boot and lace it up.

'OK, you've got money and shoes - so go!'

She stood there.

'Go - it's time!'

'Where am I?' Her accent was heavy enough for her to be Brezhnev's daughter, but her voice was clear. 'What country is this?' She looked and sounded like the lost child she was.

I didn't want to hear any more. There wasn't time. I needed to be back at the safe-house ASAP. 'You're in Holland. Amsterdam. You have money. Get a taxi to that hotel. The blonde woman, short hair - she'll be there to meet you and help you.'

'I come with you?'

'I'm leaving tonight. I'm not staying here. The woman will help you.'

I pulled out another couple of hundred. 'Take a taxi to the airport. And make sure n.o.body sees you with all this money. Just go.'

I turned away from her.

'Thank you.'

'It's OK. Use it to get home.'

'No - not for this money. For what you did. For what you did last night.' She shuffled towards me in the Timberlands, raised herself onto the tips of her toes, and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and headed off in the direction of the larger of the two roundabouts, not wanting to look back.

Chucking a left, I walked for maybe two hundred metres until I spotted a phone box. Anna answered immediately. It was as if she was on stag. Her iPhone only rang once.

'Listen - one of the girls from the building is heading to you right now, in a cab.'

'Does she have a name?'

'Probably. This has to be quick, I have to get back. She's got dyed blonde hair and no eyebrows. Maybe call Lena and see what she can do for her. I need you able to move at a moment's notice in case the s.h.i.+t hits the fan.' I didn't tell her that it already had.

'Are you planning on bringing them out one by one?'

It was a half-a.r.s.ed attempt at humour but it made me laugh anyway.

'Nicholas?'

'What?'

'Be careful.'

17