“Adriana, any news?”
“No.” He heard the worry in her voice. “I was hoping you had heard something.”
Craig grimaced. “I’m... sorry, Adriana. I’ve worked my contacts, but no-one has seen them.”
The silence on the other end was deafening.
“Adriana, don’t worry yet. Just keep trying their phones. As I said, it could just be a network problem. Whenever I’m there, I always have problems.” He heard her sigh, and he closed his eyes, feeling her pain. “Look, I’ll keep trying, too. If I hear anything, I’ll be straight on the phone to you.”
“Thank you, Craig. I’m sorry to trouble you, I... I just don’t know what to do.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Stay positive, Adriana, everything will turn out alright.”
“I hope so.” He heard her sigh again. “Thank you, Craig.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
He ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the desk. He picked up a packet of cigarettes and his lighter and went back out onto the balcony. He tapped out a cigarette, flicked open the zippo, shielding the flame with his hands, and lit up. He took a long drag and blew the smoke into the air. Leaning his forearms onto the handrail, he stared down at the street below. There must be something he could do, someone he could call. He took another drag and flicked the ash off the end, watching the particles float out over the street. An idea was forming, but he didn’t like it. He thought over the possible connotations as he finished his cigarette and then reached a decision. Flicking the butt onto the floor of his balcony, he grabbed his espresso glass and walked back inside, putting the glass and cigarette pack down on the desk and picked up the phone. Scrolling through the phone book, he selected a number and dialed.
“Alo.”
“Mehmet, it’s Craig.”
75
“How many are there?”
“Seven.”
“Shit,” John muttered almost to himself. He glanced at Steve and John, then looked back at Mia who sat half out of the pickup cab holding Malak in her arms. Steve and Mansur stood beside him while Karam perched on the edge of the rear tray, monitoring the street. “And you say they are slaves?”
“Yes, they’ve been kidnapped from their villages and raped repeatedly. Some are only teenagers. One girl, Shayma, has been bought and sold five times. She’s fourteen!”
“They are not our problem,” Naeem grumbled from inside the cab.
“I told you I’m not leaving without them!” Mia snapped.
“Mahfuza, we cannot go back there. We have to leave.”
“No.” Mia shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. And my name is Mia.” She looked up at John and Steve. “Don’t listen to him. He thinks it’s their right to take women as slaves. He says the Koran allows it.” She looked over at Mansur. “Is that right?”
Mansur shook his head.
She turned back to face Steve.
“Uncle Steve, if you had seen these poor girls, you wouldn’t hesitate.”
“Mia, it won’t be safe.” Steve sighed. “We have to get out of here. I’ve put John and Mansur in enough danger already.”
Mia looked at John. “Please. We can’t leave them. Mansur?”
John exhaled loudly and looked up the street. A vehicle approached from the other direction, weaving its way through the rubble. Mia reached up and arranged her hijab to cover her face as the vehicle got closer, another pickup with bearded, armed men sitting in the back. Naeem raised a hand and waved to the driver as it approached. The driver waved back, and the pickup continued by, the fighters in the rear staring at them as they passed. John waited until they were further up the street, then turned to Mansur and Steve.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t like it, mate. We came here to get Mia and Malak. We’ve got them. The sensible thing is to leave as soon as possible.”
“Mansur?”
“Mr. Steve is right. The sensible thing to do is to leave. But...” Mansur hesitated and looked down at Mia and her child.
“But what?”
“What these men are doing is wrong. These are mothers, daughters, someone’s sister.”
John nodded. Mansur was right. They should at least try. He looked at Steve.
“Imagine it was Maadhavi.”
“I know, I know.” Steve rubbed his head in frustration. “You’re right, you’re both right.” He kicked the tire of the pickup. “But how do we do it?” He bent over so he could see inside the cab. “Naeem?”
“I’m not doing it.”
“Now listen to me, you little shit,” Steve growled. “I’ve been tolerant so far because you got us free, but…” He held up his hand, the tips of his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I’m this close to ripping your fucking throat out. If you want to redeem yourself, you get off your arse, come out here, and tell us how we can do this.”
Naeem didn’t move.
John bent down to look inside, and he could see the knuckles of Naeem’s right hand turn white as he gripped the butt of his AKM. He turned to Steve and tried to catch his eye, but Steve ignored him, glaring at Naeem. After a moment, there was a click, the driver’s door swung open, and Naeem got out. John and Mansur exchanged glances, then stepped back to give him space as he walked around the front of the vehicle. Naeem refused to make eye contact with Steve and stood sullenly, looking at the ground.
“Describe the building, Naeem,” John asked.
“It’s... a three-story building, abandoned,” he mumbled.
“Speak up,” Steve snapped.
John raised a calming hand.
“Go on.”
“They are on the second floor.”
“Any guards?”
Naeem shook his head. “Just one.” He glanced toward Karam. “It used to be him.”
“And are the men there now? During the day?”
Naeem shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Steve grabbed Naeem by the shoulders and pushed him up against the side of the car, his face just inches from Naeem’s.
“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t being very helpful?”
They heard a click and looked up to see Karam standing up, his AK 47 cocked
