Page 42 of A Life Imagined
At breakfast, Mathias’s phone buzzed from where it lay face down on the kitchen table.The man picked it up to glance at the screen, then pushed aside his coffee and stepped away to take the call.Rayan waited, his plate of eggs abandoned, willing it to be Belkov with news—any news.He needed something concrete to counter the crippling uncertainty.
When Mathias returned, his coffee was cold, and he was holding the map Rayan had given him.He spread it across the table, and Rayan could see he’d made a series of markings, outlining a route that went from Calais through Germany and into Poland.
“Belkov got word from his contact.The Lobuzi, a Polish gang from Lublin, have been active in France in recent weeks.Apparently, they’re bringing a group back with them to Korczowa.”
Rayan stared at the location Mathias had circled on the map.He felt the first tendril of relief since he’d arrived at the camp to find the girls alone.It meant there was still hope for Farhan.“He’s headed to Poland?”
“The southeast, near the Ukraine border.There’s no guarantee he’s with them, but it’s the only lead we’ve got.There are several factories in the area, where they put migrants to work.Belkov said his man has reached out to the local Lobuzi leader, Filip Zabawski, who’ll meet us there.It’s our best bet for finding your friend.But we need to move fast.They scatter quickly.”
“We?”Rayan glanced up at Mathias.He’d been somewhat subdued since his conversation with Belkov the previous evening.It must have been difficult confronting the world he’d left behind.Rayan felt a twinge of guilt for his responsibility in that.
“I’m not going to pretend to understand what’s going on with you right now with all of this,” Mathias said.“But I’m not letting you go alone.If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way.I need you to stay sharp, understand?”
Rayan nodded.
“Good.”Mathias reached out and tapped Rayan’s cheek with his palm.“Then listen up.Here’s what we’re going to do.”
Because they had to move quickly, there was no time to get false papers issued.They would have to transport Farhan back the way the smugglers had taken him without documentation.Mathias hired a small box truck from a rental company on the outskirts of the city.He used a different name and paid in cash.Before getting on the road, they swung by the warehouse and loaded a large furniture crate into the truck.
Provided they managed to find Farhan, the plan was that he would only use the crate for the crossing from Poland to Germany.It had slits along the sides for ventilation and was just big enough to fit a man of Farhan’s size.They tossed in a stack of padded moving blankets for him to use on the return journey.Being jostled about in the back of the truck would be far from comfortable, but it was better than the alternative.
“If anyone asks, we’re traveling to pick up a Venetian credenza from my vendor in Krakow.The paperwork’s in the glove compartment,” Mathias instructed Rayan as they drove out of Calais and onto the highway heading east.“We’ll pick up a few other pieces while we’re there—fill up the truck to make it difficult for the border guards to poke around.”
Mathias, familiar with flouting the rules of engagement, had thought of every detail.To him, hurdles were meant to be cleared, and when his mind was set on something, there wasn’t much—legal or otherwise—that could stand in his way.
“We shouldn’t have any trouble until Bademeusel.There’s a checkpoint before leaving Germany.”Mathias adjusted the rearview mirror, a grim line forming across his forehead.“Getting into Poland is easy.It’s the way back we need to be concerned about.”
The chance of customs searching the truck meant they were traveling unarmed, a prospect Rayan knew didn’t sit well with Mathias.But between the two of them, they had enough experience taking people down—with or without a weapon.All he could do was hope they didn’t encounter any obstacles on the road they couldn’t handle.
“What’s this?”Rayan asked.Sitting between them in the footwell of the cab was a sealed cardboard box.
“A gift.”
Rayan raised an eyebrow.“Now we’re rewarding these assholes?”
Mathias shot him a sidelong look.“Don’t act so indignant.You know how this works.”
Rayan knew all too well.He sighed and stared at the back of the caravan crawling along in front of them.“How is Belkov these days?”
Mathias frowned and tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel.“Same as always,” he said, navigating the truck into the left lane to pass.“Looking for any God-given opportunity to take more than his share.”
Rayan had a hunch Mathias was hiding something, or at least skirting the truth.It was frustrating, the way Mathias’s first instinct was to withhold.But then, that instinct had been crucial to both his success and his survival.Rayan couldn’t have one without the other, yet he wished Mathias would be a little more forthcoming so he didn’t always have to guess what was going on in the man’s head.
“I’m surprised he was willing to help.”
“We developed somewhat of a mutual understanding in those last few years.When I left, he offered his assistance should I ever need it.”Mathias made a sour face.“And before you say it, no, we’re not friends.”
Rayan laughed.It was strange to imagine the two men getting along, especially considering how much they’d hated each other during his time in Montreal.Rayan remembered several tense car rides back from Laval when Mathias had plotted aloud the details of the Bratva boss’s takedown.Of course, city politics interfered with his plans.They made an odd pair but were also complementary, two underdogs determined to get their due.
Outside the window, France passed in a blur.Rayan hadn’t been sure what would follow his request for a favor, but he should have known Mathias wouldn’t attempt anything half-assed.He was well aware of the risks Mathias was taking by helping him.
“Thank you,” Rayan said quietly.“For doing this.”
“I shouldn’t be.”
“You are good at it, though.”
“Smuggling people?You might be surprised to learn this is unfamiliar territory.”
