‘He must think he’s got something to bargain with.’
‘He probably thinks telling us about the trafficking will cut it.’
Janine shook her head. ‘He’ll need a lot more than that. And if he did kill Rosa or Gleason, witness protection won’t touch him.’
*****
Marta’s head ached. She wondered if the police would give her something for the pain. They were still in the cells at the police station. The police woman had told them they would be taken to a detention centre later that night. Zofia was weeping, worried that her family would find out exactly what work she had really been doing; she had told them she was waitressing.
‘They don’t need to know,’ Marta told her. ‘Just stick to your story, there was a mistake with the paperwork. You don’t have to go home anyway.’ The girl glanced at her.
‘They’ll probably dump us at Warsaw airport, get us to talk to the police to see what we know. After that – well…’
‘What will you say?’ Zofia swallowed.
Marta shrugged. ‘As little as possible.’
Marta had no intention of staying in Poland. She’d find a way back to the West. But not with the same set-up. She wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and Sulikov, she knew that much. Harper had always warned them that his boss wouldn’t tolerate anyone causing problems. She’d heard the rumours: the girl who’d run away without paying her full fee, who’d been found and locked in with hungry dogs; the undercover police informant who had been strung from a lamp-post, his tongue posted to his widow. Knowing what he was capable of, Marta had never imagined Rosa would be reckless enough to run away.
She’d hoped that Harper would talk her round, force her to abort the baby.
How had Sulikov found out? Had Harper betrayed her? Marta wouldn’t put it past him. The way he spoke about Sulikov, he was just as fearful of the man as the rest of them.
The place was too warm. Her skin was sticky, her eyes gritty and the pulsing pain in her temples was getting worse. They had been given tea in plastic cups – it tasted disgusting – and little sandwiches with bitter lettuce and shiny, bland cheese. The custody sergeant had asked whether any of them needed to see a doctor. A precise note was made of their possessions, pitiful really, and their details had been taken. Marta wondered whether they would get anything back. Especially her savings. If this had happened back home, it would already be lining someone’s pocket.
