Page 98 of Maxim

She shakes her head. “He’s my boyfriend. We met a year ago. I thought he was a good guy.” She laughs, but it’s hollow. The glass of water she nurses - I assume it’s water because she’s visibly pregnant - is still half-full. “Turns out I’m a bad judge of character.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Zelenya.”

It takes a while but I persuade Zelenya I can help her. She didn’t dare approach the authorities in case someone reported back to Uriov. Meeting me in a bar was pure luck. If I hadn’t been there, she planned to throw herself off the nearest bridge rather than risk her baby enduring a life of abuse at the hands of his father.

Instead, I arrange for her to be taken to one of our safe houses, where she’s looked after for a few days while Sasha puts together a new fake identity and all the other documentation she’ll need. Then she leaves the country to start a new life, far away from Anatoly Uriov.

Sasha tells me a few weeks later that Uriov is furious about the disappearance of his girlfriend. He kills several of his men for ‘losing’ her. Not that I give a shit. Zelenya and her baby are safe. Uriov won’t find her. Not in Canada.

A year later, a postcard arrives at the safe house address. There’s a photo of a moose on the front. It says ‘thank you’.

Chapter sixty-eight

Nat

Time passes slowly in a windowless room with nothing to do. Jane and I don’t say much to each other. We’re both too traumatized. Very little happens down here in the basement. A man arrives periodically to shove some prepackaged sandwiches and bottles of water through a hatch in the door.

Aside from that, it’s quiet.

Somehow, the waiting is the worst bit. Not knowing what’s to come means my imagination is running wild. My mind keeps going over everything I know about Uriov and Mayor Kolanski.

Jane knows he’s involved in people trafficking, but she doesn’t know about the womens’ shelters or the website. I’m keeping quiet about those. There’s still a chance Uriov will let Jane go. He doesn’t need her if he has me. At least I assume not.

Me being here has to be because of the story I’ve been researching. The mayor must be worried about negative press affecting his re-election prospects. From everything Mickey has dug up on him, he has a sweet thing going on. The man is more corrupt than a shady African dictator.

“How long have we been in here?” Jane asks for the millionth time. “My watch is dead.”

It occurred to me that Jane’s watch GPS location data might be useful if anyone is searching for us, but when she switched on the GPS function, nothing happened. The watch couldn’t connect to a satellite.

“No idea.” With no windows in this room, it’s impossible to tell.

Just as she starts to say something else, we hear footsteps, and the lock disengages on the door.

“Hello, ladies! Are you enjoying your stay at Hotel Uriov? If so, please leave a review on Trip Advisor. Anything less than five stars will be unacceptable.”

“Why are you doing this, Anton?” Jane stares up at our kidnapper, her eyes shiny with tears. I feel for her. She’s struggling to reconcile the man she thought he was with the psycho standing in the doorway.

“Oh Jane, you poor sweet girl.” He attempts to look sympathetic but it’s clear he has no clue what an actual emotion looks like. “Blame Miss Rossi, it’s her fault you’re here.”

“Why is it her fault?”

“Because she hooked up with my enemy. You know what they say, revenge is a dish best served cold. I’ve been waiting a long time to make him pay.”

“Pay for what?” I’m beginning to see that our being here has very little to do with Kolanski’s displeasure at the thought of an expose story in the press and everything to do with Max.

“For sticking his nose in where it wasn’t welcome!” Uriov snarls. Then, almost as if a switch has been flicked, his demeanor abruptly reverts to calm and cheerful. “Now we’ve cleared that up, it’s time for you two ladies to clean up a bit. Not wishing to be judgmental or anything but neither of you is looking your best.”

“Maybe that’s because we’ve been shut in here for fuck knows how long and forced to pee in a bucket!” I’m too tired and pissed off to watch my words.

“Tut tut,” huffs Uriov. “Being disrespectful won’t get you very far, my dear. I’d prefer not to damage the merchandise, but we can cover up bruises with heavy makeup. And besides, some of my buyers pay more for the feisty ones.”

“Buyers?” Jane whispers. I reach out and grab her hand, squeezing tightly to remind her whatever happens, we’re in this together. Her and me. Ride or die.

“Oh, did your friend not explain how my business model works? I assumed she had, given she seems to know about it.”

Uriov smiles at me like a crocodile. “Never mind, I don’t have time for this right now. Follow me.”

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