by Anna Smith
‘Aw Jesus!’ Matt shouted. ‘This kid’s dead. Aw Christ, Rosie.’ He slumped against the wall.
‘Ssssh … Quiet, Matt. I’ll get him,’ said Javier. He crouched down where Matt had been trying to lift a small boy who sat with glazed eyes staring, gripping the hand of the little girl lying still next to him.
‘It’s OK. I’ve got you, boy … Sssh … It’s OK now. Come on.’ Javier gently prised the child’s fingers from the stiff, cold hand of the little girl, whispering comfortingly as the boy wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his shoulder.
‘Come. We must go. Let’s get them all into the cars and follow me,’ Besmir urged.
Suddenly they caught the sound of a single gunshot and something ricocheting off the walls and roof. Everyone stopped in their tracks.
‘Where do you think you are going?’
It was Leka. He stood in the doorway with the smoking gun pointing upwards. Something close to a smile cracked his face.
Stunned silence.
‘Besmir. Adrian.’ He frowned. ‘You betrayed me. Big mistake.’ He wagged a finger and tutted.
Besmir stared at him, unflinching. Slowly he put the two children he was carrying down on the floor. Adrian looked beyond Leka.
‘Do not think of doing something stupid, Besmir. Or you, Adrian. I am not alone.’
Rosie could feel her knees shaking as Leka looked around the room and his eyes rested on her, then Amy.
‘You have my blue girl.’ His steely eyes narrowed.
At the window, from the outside, a metal sheet was being stacked up to close the gap, and the room grew darker as it shut out the sunlight. As everyone looked in the direction of the window, Rosie noticed Besmir slide his hand down towards his ankle, and in one seamless movement remove something from under his trouser leg.
In the doorway, behind Leka, three men appeared, two of them carrying petrol cans. They stepped inside and began to pour petrol around the floor and up the walls, the fumes quickly filling the room. A drop of petrol splashed onto Rosie’s bare arm, and suddenly in that moment she felt it was over. Here, in this stinking hellhole, all of them would die, alongside the decomposing body of a small child. There was nobody to save her this time. Adrian was here, and in the semi-darkness she could see by the chalk-white pallor of his face that he too realised his luck had run out.
‘Please don’t do this,’ Rosie heard herself saying. ‘Please. I beg you. Please let the children go. They’re just children.’
Leka stared at her.
‘I know who you are. Your friend Mr Cox told me. You people are parasites, maggots.’
‘If you know who I am, then you must know people will come looking for me,’ she blurted out, looking at Javier and Matt. ‘For all of us.’
He smirked. ‘They can look. But there will be nothing left to find.’
‘Please. The children. Your blue girl.’
Leka paused, looking at Amy who was beginning to stir in Rosie’s arms. He looked around at the rest of them.
‘You should not be here, Adrian, Besmir. Why? You should not betray me. You made this happen, you bring me problems. Police are asking questions now in Spain. Mr Daletsky says everything must be destroyed. No trace. You should have done your job and that is all. You are finished.’
‘Please,’ Rosie pleaded. ‘Please let the children go.’
Silence. The men with the petrol cans stepped back out of the doorway. Rosie felt sick. She looked at Matt and Javier, saw the desperation in their eyes.
Then, suddenly, all hell broke loose. Leka buckled over and clutched his stomach. Blood trickled through his fingers as he grabbed at the handle of the knife Besmir had thrown so hard it had pierced straight into him. Besmir and Adrian rushed towards Leka, but the two big minders were faster. They grabbed him and dragged him backwards out of the barn, then pushed the door closed, plunging them all back into the darkness. Adrian and Besmir shoved hard against the door, but they could hear rocks piling up outside, then the noise of a car starting up and being driven towards them. It stopped up against the door barricading it shut.
Then, suddenly, a flaming rag was dropped through a space in the boarded-up window. They heard a whoosh and the blaze caught in seconds. Flames licked the petrol-soaked walls, and began spreading on the ground. Thick black smoke was engulfing the room, making everyone cough and choke.
Rosie tried to find a place, a gap, that wasn’t on fire. She could hear the children coughing and crying, and she covered her mouth trying to take short breaths. Still carrying Amy, and holding the hand of the other child, she blinked, the smoke stinging her eyes. As she swallowed more smoke she began to stagger and slip to her knees, and placed Amy on the ground.
‘Quick, Besmir. Kick the wall. It’s not strong. It will fall if we kick hard.’ Adrian began furiously kicking the metal and throwing his shoulder against it.
Besmir and Hassan joined him, all of them kicking and shoving with the full force of their bodies until the wooden beams creaked and metal began to twist and give way, and Hassan pushed himself outside. The sudden surge of air sent the flames higher and the children screamed, but Adrian and Besmir were already picking them up one by one and throwing them outside to Hassan.
Rosie could hear the screams of the children, but she could feel herself losing consciousness.
‘Stay with us, Rosie,’ Javier urged, coughing and gasping for air himself.
Matt grabbed hold of Rosie and helped her to her feet and they staggered towards the gap in the wall. Matt pushed Rosie outside and went back to grab Amy and the other child and drag them to safety before collapsing on the ground alongside her. She looked up to see Adrian and Besmir emerge from the flames with three more children, and then all of them slumped to the ground. Rosie raised herself up on her elbow and saw at least eight children, some milling around, some unconscious, others crying and coughing. But she couldn’t see Javier anywhere.
Suddenly, the roof of the building fell in.
‘Javier! He’s still in there. Christ, he’s trapped.’ Rosie screamed.
Adrian stood up unsteadily. Besmir took off his shirt and tied it around his head, covering his mouth. Flames shot up to the sky as another part of the roof fell in. Besmir ran forward and disappeared into the blazing building.
Rosie sobbed as Matt held her in his arms. Then, through the wails of children, they suddenly heard the sound of sirens. In the distance flashing lights could just be seen through the clouds of dust.
‘Look, Rosie, cops. Look.’ Matt forced himself to get to his feet. ‘I need to get pictures,’ he gasped, and staggered towards the car to fetch his camera.
The blue lights were getting closer. Rosie looked at the burning building, willing Besmir to appear, and he did, supporting Javier. They staggered out and both collapsed on the ground. Rosie cried with relief when she heard Javier coughing.
Besmir lay on the ground, feeling the breath leave his body. His lungs had felt like a furnace, but now there was no pain. His head felt light. He turned to the side and saw Kaltrina kneeling, her tear-stained face smeared with smoke and dirt. She was looking at him curiously, as though she remembered him. He thought she smiled. The last thing he saw was the sunlight reflected in her blue eyes.
CHAPTER 40
‘What the fuck, Gilmour?’ It was McGuire.
‘Yes, I’m fine, Mick, thanks for asking. I survived.’
‘Christ almighty, Rosie, I know you survived. I’ve just fucking seen you on Sky News. What the Christ happened? Are you sure you’re alright?’
‘Yeah, Mick, I’m fine. I’m just about to leave the hospital. I would have phoned you earlier, but I was suffering from the effects of smoke inhalation, to use the official term.’
‘Very funny, Rosie. We were all frantic about you. Can you imagine the flap we were in? I talk to you in the morning and then don’t hear from you all day, then suddenly a snap comes on AP wires saying Amy’s been found alive in Morocco, and one line that a female news
paper journalist may have been burned to death. That’s how it came out here. We’ve been phoning you for hours, and getting fuck-all information out of the Moroccans.’ He paused. ‘Christ, Rosie. We thought we’d lost you.’
‘Sorry, Mick.’ Rosie detected a catch in McGuire’s voice. ‘I’m sorry. It was … Jesus, Mick … It was awful, terrible. Everything happened so fast. We were out in the middle of nowhere and suddenly we were caught up in something and we couldn’t turn back. Then we’re trapped in this barn with all these poor fucking stolen kids. Christ, Mick, one of them was lying dead in the corner.’ Rosie was surprised at how quickly she was losing it. ‘Then … then these bastards set fire to the barn. Oh, Mick! I thought we were all going to die.’
The bravado was gone. She burst into tears. Shit. That was the last thing she wanted to do.
‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, sniffing.
‘It’s alright, Rosie. It’s just the relief that’s made you a bit overwhelmed.’
‘You know you really should be writing self-help books, Mick.’
Get back in the saddle, she told herself. Don’t give him your worries. Whatever he says, he really doesn’t care if you do it with mirrors, as long as you deliver.
‘That’s better, Gilmour. But honestly – we were worried sick. Thank Christ we didn’t lose you.’ The catch in his voice again. He paused. ‘Listen. I want you out of there pronto. I’ll get you on a plane tonight, You need to be home.’
‘No, Mick. No.’ Rosie swiftly composed herself.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since the police, ambulance and fire brigade had arrived like the cavalry and scooped everyone up from where they lay on the ground in various stages of consciousness. All of them were rushed to the main hospital in Tangiers where a battery of doctors checked them over. Two of the children nearly didn’t make it and were still in intensive care. But Amy was fine, Rosie had been told by a doctor in his fractured English. It only took a few hours before the news spread and a media presence began building up outside the hospital, hoping for a glimpse of the little girl the world was talking about. Adrian, despite coughing his guts up, had got off his mark in the car before the emergency services arrived. He told Rosie he would be back to Spain by evening. Hassan had also vanished.
The Spanish Guarda Civil was sending a special boat to bring Amy back to Tarifa where she’d be reunited with her parents. As soon as Rosie heard that, she got dressed and signed herself out of the hospital. She was shaky and dizzy when she got to her feet, but Matt and Javier helped her out of the ward. If they hurried, they could be on a boat to Spain within the hour. She needed to be there before Amy arrived.
‘Mick. They’re taking the kid back to her parents tonight and I’m on a boat back to Spain shortly. Me, Matt and Javier. Nothing is going to stop me being there when Amy gets handed over. I didn’t come this far and go through all this shit to give the story to someone else. Matt’s got amazing pictures of all these kids lying around the ground after the fire. Really dramatic. He’s even got a snap of the kidnapper seconds after he died.’
‘Listen, I know what you’re saying, but I can send someone to help. You’re actually part of the story now, Gilmour. Everyone’s all over it, trying to find out what happened to you, and how come you were in the middle of it all. We’re fighting them off here.’
‘Stuff that, Mick. I’ll get to that tomorrow. You can put a statement out or something. But I want to tell the story myself in the Post. I’m getting on that boat.’
‘The Lennons have said they’re not doing a press conference, only reunion pics. They just want their daughter back. What a picture that’ll be.’
‘I know. Imagine how they feel right now. I can understand them saying no to an interview, but that might change. I’m going to make an approach, Mick. I want that interview.’
‘Alright, you can try, but the story will be everywhere. And I don’t want you busting your gut if you’re not ready. I mean, Rosie: you’ve just been involved in a huge trauma. You could have been killed.’
‘Yeah, but I’m still here. I want to see if the Lennons will do a big sit-down with me. If anyone is in the driving seat it’s me, Mick. I helped get their daughter back.’
‘Of course,’ Mick said. ‘I’m sure when they take in everything that’s happened and your part in it, you’ll be in with a shout for an interview. Otherwise they’re ungrateful bastards as well as fucking liars. Oh, and by the way, Rosie, Sky News is also saying that the Spanish cops have arrested four men they intercepted on a boat coming from Morocco. Apparently they’re behind the kidnapping. One is called Leka or something. Albanian. He had a stab wound. Ring any bells?’
‘Yeah, just a few.’
She signalled to Matt who was at the taxi, pointing impatiently to his watch.
‘Listen, Mick. We’ve got other stuff here we need to talk about when I get to Spain. Lots of big stuff on the porn movies they were making with these kidnapped kids. They stole kids from everywhere – Romania, Morocco, and further into Africa. And that Vinny bastard. We’ve got a lot of his movies.’
‘You’ve got them?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you talk to him?’
‘Er … not quite.’
‘How did you get them?’
‘No trick questions, Mick. I’ve got them, that’s all that matters. Javier had a look at one last night and he thinks the kid in it is the little boy from Tenerife who’s been missing for three years. Vinny killed him. He killed him on film. Snuff movies. That’s what Frankie Nelson told me in jail.’
‘You’re fucking joking. That’s on film?’
‘Yeah, On film. I haven’t seen it. Javier and Matt have it.’
‘The Spanish cops will want it.’
‘They’ll get it when we get back to Scotland – not before.’
‘Where’s this Vinny fucker now?’
‘Er … hard to say. But I don’t think he’ll be making any more movies. Forget him.’
‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that, Rosie. Is something going to come back to bite us?’
‘I wouldn’t think so. I need to go now, Mick. Matt and Javier are waiting. We’ll talk tonight.’
‘You take care, Gilmour. Don’t do anything daft. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.’
‘Yeah. I’m sure you have, Mick.’ She hung up.
* * *
In the office of the Maritime Rescue Agency in Tarifa, Jenny and Martin Lennon sat holding hands and watching the clock. They’d been told they would be reunited with their daughter within the hour. Outside, the press and broadcast media gathered for a glimpse of the boat’s arrival.
Jenny was clutching her daughter’s favourite soft toy, a furry rabbit with huge floppy ears. Amy never went anywhere without it. She hoped that if her daughter was traumatised, the rabbit would help her to feel secure. What if she’d forgotten about her mum and dad? Jenny had fretted all night after the initial euphoria that Amy was alive. She’d been gone for over three weeks. Nobody knew what she’d been through. Martin told her not to worry. As soon as she saw familiar faces, Amy would be fine.
The news had come in a phone call early yesterday evening. Martin had answered it, and as always happened every time the phone rang, Jenny watched his face for clues when he took the call. As soon as she heard the words, ‘Are you sure?’, she was at his side. He’d held his hand out to keep her at arm’s length while he pressed the phone to his ear, his face set in concentration as he listened.
Then he looked at Jenny. ‘She’s alive,’ he’d said. ‘Amy’s alive.’ He went back to the phone.
Jenny’s hands went to her mouth in shock. Then Martin asked whoever he was speaking to if they would hold for a moment and talk to his wife. She heard the words herself. They’d found Amy and she seemed unharmed, but doctors were still checking her over in hospital. The Guarda Civil were on their way to the villa to fill them in with the details.
When they’d come off the phone, Martin and
Jenny had clung to each other, weeping with relief. Jenny kept repeating that she was sorry, that she knew she could never expect Martin to forgive her. She pleaded for one last chance. He didn’t answer, and just kept saying how he had to see Amy with his own eyes before he would believe it was really true.
Now they could hear a sudden burst of activity around the harbour. Jenny got up and looked out of the window where the journalists and TV cameras were camped at the quayside. A Guarda Civil car was driven to the edge. The office door opened and a policeman came in and smiled broadly at them.
‘The boat is arriving in only few minutes. Your daughter is coming.’
‘Thank you,’ Martin said.
They waited. They paced the floor. They sat down. They stood up, and sat back down again. Then, at last, they heard voices and footsteps in the corridor.
The door opened, and they held their breath as the female police officer came in. They stood up. They could only see the back of her head, a mop of curly dark hair in the policewoman’s arms, but Jenny would know it was Amy’s anywhere. She had dreamed of touching it, smelling it, every hour of every day.
‘Amy … ?’ Jenny took a tentative step forward, terrified it wasn’t her. Amy turned around as she heard her name.
‘Amy! Oh Amy!’
For a second, the little girl looked bewildered, then her face lit up.
‘Mummy!’
Jenny and Martin went to her with their arms out.
‘Daddy!’ Amy’s eyes widened with delight when she saw Martin.
‘There’s my beautiful girl! There she is!’
The policewoman handed Amy to Jenny, and Martin wrapped his arms around both of them, a family together again at last. At least for the moment.
Rosie stayed in the car with Javier while Matt joined the scrum of photographers outside the harbour rescue office. They’d been told the Lennons would come outside with Amy for a few minutes to give the photographers their pictures. But no questions, and definitely no interviews. Rosie stayed well out of sight, knowing any press or media who recognised her from the AP story would want to talk to her. She wasn’t ready for that yet.
