Page 46 of A Life Imagined
Zabawski led them back outside and around the house to a sprawling grassy field.At the far end of the field stood the grain silos, which was where the man appeared to be taking them.
“I was told you were looking for someone,” Zabawski said as they walked.
“That’s right,” Mathias replied.
“We pick up people from all over—Germany, Spain, France.Some come willingly.Others need a little convincing.”He glanced over his shoulder with a grin, revealing a set of golden canines.
Rayan had to work hard to keep the disgust from showing on his face.As they drew closer to the silos, he saw two men standing by the access door to the larger tower.One of them nodded at Zabawski and moved to unlock the door.He pulled it open with a metallic screech.
Instead of grain, the silo was filled with men.They sat on makeshift mats spread out across the concrete floor.Around them were backpacks, shopping bags, and all manner of hastily assembled possessions.They were of varying ages, most of them young, all of them gripped by a collective air of resignation.Rayan’s stomach turned at the blatant lack of humanity.
“Well, here they are.There was a group from France that arrived in the latest cohort.See if your man’s among them.”Zabawski pulled a hand-rolled cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it.
“Jesus,” Rayan muttered as he stared out at the sea of faces.
He stepped inside, leaving Mathias by the door with the Lobuzi head, and began walking through the maze of people, searching for anyone who might resemble Farhan.He passed a cluster of men playing cards then stopped when he thought he heard his name called.He looked over, and there was Farhan, half rising from his seat on a flattened piece of cardboard.
“Rayan, is that you?”Farhan whispered in Arabic, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Rayan was overcome by a flood of relief.He couldn’t believe their luck.After two days spent tearing through the haystack, they’d found their needle.
He reached for Farhan’s hand and pulled him to his feet.“We’re here to take you back.”
There rose a chorus of murmurs from several of the men seated around them.
“There are others, from Calais, with families at the camp,” Farhan said.“Can they come too?”
The other men began to stand, and Rayan was gripped with a sudden panic.
“Please,” one man pleaded.“We want to go back.”
“My wife is there, and my son,” another said.
Rayan’s pulse hammered in his throat.He glanced over at the door to see Zabawski deep in conversation with Mathias.What the fuck are we supposed to do now?
Chapter Sixteen
Belkov had told Mathias that Filip Zabawski was a connoisseur of expensive cognac.Mathias had a feeling that wasn’t all the man had a taste for.In exchange for freeing one of his prized laborers, Zabawski would want more than a few bottles of top-shelf liquor.Sure enough, once Rayan had gone into the silo to look for Farhan, the Pole turned to Mathias with a shrewd smile.
“How about this: I’ll give him to you for twelve thousand.I need to recoup the cost of getting him here and what we stand to make from him on-site.I would charge more, but out of respect for our mutual friend, I’m willing to give you a discount.”
Mathias had done many things in his time, but negotiating the purchase of a person was not one of them.He nodded vaguely as though they were discussing interest terms on a loan.Despite having a reputation for never accepting an offer outright, his counteroffer tasted foul in his mouth.Am I really going to stand here and haggle for Farhan’s life?
“Sounds fair,” Mathias said, breaking his own rule.Fortunately, he’d taken precautions.He had at least twenty grand on him and another eighty hidden in the truck.
“A friend of the Bratva is a friend of mine.”Zabawski raised his foul-smelling cigarette to his lips.His eyes caught on something, and Mathias followed his gaze to see Rayan helping someone to their feet.“Looks like you’ve found your man.”
Thank Christ.It hadn’t all been for nothing.Now if they could just get him out of here.
“Not sure what you want with that one, though.The Arabs don’t bring in much.Is he from a good family?Some of them have relatives back home who will pay.Not often, but sometimes you get lucky.”
Mathias felt a rising distaste for the Polish gangster.He wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but profiting off the backs of people like these—displaced and defenseless—required a certain kind of stomach.
“I have my reasons,” he replied.
In the silo, several men had gathered around Rayan and Farhan and were engaged in an increasingly tense discussion.One of the men had a hand on Rayan’s arm and appeared to be imploring him urgently.
“Thought you said it was just the one,” Zabawski observed.
