Solomon lay there, letting her pulse slow and her eyesight recover. Now she could think again, could see. Sergei looked up at her, his eyes cold to the world. Solomon took a while to process it all. She took out his wallet. Sergei wasn't even his name; he was a travelling salesman, not an architect. No doubt, the children in the photo aren't even his, she thought bitterly. The bastard, the utter bastard, he had planned this all along.
She stood up, slightly uneasy on her feet. Then she thought about how close he had come to hurting her little girl. She kicked the body at her feet, then again, and again, and then she let loose, kicking the body of Sergei until her leg ached. She stopped, panting hard. Suddenly aware that her daughter was witnessing this, had witnesses it all.
Solomon grabbed her daughter and held her close whispering to her that everything was going to be OK.
As the minutes ticked by she started to worry. We’re both standing here at the side of the road with a dead body. We need to get out of her, fast. She covered the body with branches and bits of a bush, unless anyone was looking for it, they would not see it from the road. They got into the car, Natasha in the front passenger seat now. Solomon looked frantically for the key. The fucking key must be in his pocket!
The key located and the body re-covered they were finally on their way. Unsure as to where the lane actually went, she opted to turn round and take the slower, but sure route to the border.
11:13 01 November [08:13 01 November GMT]
Upper Lars Checkpoint, Caucasus Mountains, Russia-Georgia Border.
There was something happening on the Russian side of the border. Solomon was eight cars back from the front and could see some smoke rising. The majority of the border guards had surrounded the smoking vehicle and as she came closer, she could see that the vehicle was riddled with bullet holes. The single Russian border guard not looking at the burnt out vehicle was just waving the cars through, one at a time. Solomon gently held her breath as she was waved through. The Georgian side was a different story. The cars were being split into four rows and a border guard was dedicated to each row. As they drew closer Solomon could make out that they were holding clipboards, what was on them she couldn't tell. Then the guard in the next lane turned his back on her, so she could see the front of the clipboard. Even at this distance, she recognised their photos. He had the leaflet, the one from the bus station. The one where I am wanted for murder. That thought brought a wry smile. Well I can't protest that I'm not a murderer any more.
She pulled the car forward as another car was waved through after its inspection. One car was left between her and freedom. She considered waiting until the car in front moved and then going for it. The thought of the smouldering car with the bullet holes dispensed with that idea. There is nothing else for it, I will have to bluff it, and if that fails then we make a run for it.
The car in front moved off. Solomon drew up alongside the Georgian border guard. He lent down to her window. She wound it down.
'Please switch off your engine miss.'
'Of course officer.' So much for making a run for it.
He looked at the two occupants then at his clipboard.
'Any contraband?'
'No, of course not.'
'Have you seen these two people?’ He asked, showing her the picture of herself and Natasha on his clipboard.
'No. I haven't.' Solomon said nervously, her heart in her mouth, palms sweating, pulse racing.
'No,' the Georgian border guard said, 'neither have I.’ He smiled at Solomon, and then whispered, 'Good luck.' He stood up, waved her through, and thought to himself, Don't see why I should help the Russians. Let them clear up their own mess. He felt he had struck a small blow for Georgia.
13:48 01 November [10:48 01 November GMT]
Tbilisi, Georgia.
The drive from the border to Tbilisi had been spectacularly uneventful, much to Solomon's relief. They parked in the central old part of Tbilisi, outside a small store. Again the need for food was uppermost in both their minds and they were not disappointed with what the city had to offer. Solomon ordered a coffee for herself and an orange juice for Natasha after they had finished eating. As she sat there sipping the dark, rich liquid, savouring the aroma she started to unwind just a little. The close call at the train station, the incident in the bar, the rape and her having to kill “Sergei” to protect her daughter followed by the encounter with the border guard. These events had all taken their toll upon her. The border guard still puzzled her. She was in no doubt that he had recognised them both, and yet instead of detaining and arresting them he had wished them good luck and waved them through. She looked across at her daughter, drinking her orange juice through a straw and playing with Sheepy.
She had always loved her, but she had never felt very maternal. That had all changed now; now her daughter had no nanny, no housekeeper, no home even. But in exchange the fates had conspired to give her a real mother, one who provided both physical and emotional care. She had in turn discovered the truth of motherhood, and the great rewards that it provides. She could no longer be fearful. Now it was all about survival. Survival and escape to England. But first they had to make it to Switzerland, to where it was “both safe and familiar” to be able to receive the “gift”. She still had no idea what this meant, nor what the gift could be. She just had faith in her mother, as Natasha did in her.
The bill paid, they made their way back to where they had parked the car. As they came around the side of a church they could see a crowd, but no car. Instead of walking down the street she lead Natasha across the road. Able to get a better look she could see that the crowd were jostling around the car, and that inside of the crowd was a ring of police. Solomon kept walking, leading Natasha away from the area, away from imminent danger.
She started to think rapidly to herself, trying to assimilate this new turn of events. They either know that we were using the car and are looking for us, or they have discovered Sergei and are wondering how his car is over a hundred and fifty miles away from his body. Or, she realised, they know both, that I killed him and drove here in his car. Either way we need to move fast, the train is out of the question so it has to be a bus. But not a bus to the border with Turkey. She opened her map and looked at it. A bus to Batumi in the west, it’s on the coast of the Black Sea, then double back some distance and cross the border. We can't risk having another kind border guard, which means we will have to cross the border on foot and for that we will need supplies.
After walking about a half mile, she stopped and asked directions to the bus station. Although she hated leaving behind all of their clothes, she realised that this way they looked less suspicious walking through the city. At least I have our money on me.
The bus station was insanely busy, which worked to Solomon's advantage. It took a bit of work to find the Batumi bus, but when they did, she was pleased to see that passengers were loading their own luggage. That's good; it means we should go unnoticed. The bus itself was bright, modern, and efficient, as was the journey. They whipped along the roads making good time. Talking to a fellow passenger, there were two busses to Batumi, the direct, and the local, which made stops along the way. They were on the direct. She thought about this. If the Tbilisi police take time to contact the police in Batumi then we could be there before they start checking inbound busses. However, as it is direct we can't get off one stop early. It doesn't really matter, she realised, we're on the direct bus, and nothing can change that.
19:24 01 November [16:24 01 November GMT]
Batumi Bus Station, Batumi, Georgia.
Solomon could only see two policemen. They stood away from the crowds, apparently just observing and showing that they were there to prevent any trouble. Solomon had consulted her map and decided that she wanted to travel back as far as Alikoglebi, about sixteen miles from Batumi. She inquired as to busses there and was told that although it originated from the bus station, it could be caught from the outskirts of the town, as it was a local
service. This left her free to take Natasha into the shopping area to buy supplies; some clothes, a couple of rucksacks one adult and one child, and a pair of good walking boots each. She purchased the rucksacks first and fitted everything else into them, apart from the boots. If it can't go in the rucksacks, we can't carry it. The one exception was Sheepy, which she fixed to Natasha's belt with a retractable dog lead, so even if she did drop it, it wouldn't be lost. Solomon knew it would be better to make the crossing in the day, so they found a small hotel away from the centre and settled in for the night.
08:41 02 November [05:41 02 November GMT]
Alikoglebi, Georgia.
The bus pulled away leaving them and one other passenger behind. Solomon knew that they had a hard task in front of them. Three miles to the border through dense forests and over a mountainous terrain. She thought back to her army training and how tough it had been, at least I have that to call upon, but Natasha doesn't and she's only nine.
The going was much harder than even she had anticipated, half a mile in and she was breathing heavily, the ascent and rapidly thinning air combining to test her stamina. Natasha seemed to be having an easier time of it, treating it like a grand adventure, this part outdoors.
The cold was sapping their strength and making conditions treacherous. They took a break when they reached the crest of an escarpment, the deep ravine falling away hundreds of meters below. Solomon checked her map and instruments. They were over a mile into the trek and about a mile from the border. Over two miles past there to the Turkish town of Maralköy from where they could hopefully catch a bus. She looked down at her daughter, who was breathing hard now. Solomon dragged herself to her feet, 'You ready to go Nat?'
Natasha nodded and scrambled to her feet. They set off, Natasha in front where Solomon could keep an eye on her. They had only been walking for two minutes when Natasha just seemed to slip into the ground, disappearing totally from sight. Solomon's heart froze. As she stepped to where her daughter had disappeared, she began to see daylight. The path had been washed away but then covered by foliage. Solomon stood there in shock, looking at where her daughter had disappeared into the ravine below.
'Mummy!’
Natasha is alive! Alive...but I can't see her.
'Don't worrying; mummy is going to save you!'
Then she saw something that made her made her shiver. Sheepy. Sheepy was stuck in a tree stump; the dog lead taut below it and on the other end she knew would be her daughter, dangling in the air, a terrifying fall below her. Solomon walked round the hole, behind the stump. She sat down bracing her legs against the stump.
'I'm going to start pulling you up. Let me know when you can grab the stump.'
She leaned forward, grasped the lead with both hands then pushing just with her legs she pulled the lead. Once her hands were level with her pelvis, she reached forward and grabbed a metre of lead with her right hand and once her grip was secure she clasped it with her left hand too. She let her bum slide along the ground and then pushed again with her legs, grabbing another metre of lead. Three more pulls and then she heard her daughter again.
'I've got hold of the stump mummy.'
Her voice was quieter now, smaller somehow.
'Good girl, now hold on very tight and I'll help you up.'
Solomon released the lead slowly, allowing her daughter to take her full weight. She crawled over the top of the stump and looped her arms around her daughters back, under her armpits. She interlaced her fingers and took up the strain.
'I want you to pull with me and get a foot hold as soon as you can, then push as hard as you can.'
'OK'
'Go!'
There was some frantic scrabbling by Natasha and then she popped up like toast. They lay there together, interlocked, panting, and cuddling. After a couple of minutes the tears came, first a trickle, then a flood combined with her sobbing made Solomon quite incoherent.
'Mummy, mummy, it's OK I'm all right mummy.'
'I... know… dear...’ Solomon managed to get out amongst her sobbing. ‘I... thought... I'd... lost... you...'
Solomon continued to hug her daughter for a good ten minutes more before finally pulling herself up and leading them on. Now they were hooked together by the lead and Sheepy was carefully placed inside Natasha's rucksack with its head poking out; pride of place. They passed the border some half an hour later and began the long slow descent towards Maralköy, the going easier as the air thickened again.
There was not much to the town of Maralköy, but they did find somewhere to eat. They discovered that there was no bus for another three or four days forcing them to accept a lift to Artvin some twenty miles due south. Solomon was glad they had to ride in the back of the truck. The farmer had his entire family in the cab; it seemed that any journey to Artvin was a day out. Mother and daughter looked out the back of the truck as it wound its way down the mountainside.
Artvin was not a pretty town. Once possibly, but too many concrete monsters had grown out of it. It did however have a bus service. They could not relax, even having a meal was a stress because they might be noticed, or worse yet, recognised against a photo of them circulated throughout Turkey. If the Turkish police care, or have been informed or have bothered to circulate their photos. So many imponderables it was driving Solomon insane. The bus to Erzurum finally arrived for the eighty-mile journey south.
11:14 03 November [09:14 03 November GMT]
Erzurum, Turkey.
Another day, another bus station, Solomon thought idly as she walked round to collect their rucksacks. Her body ached from the disturbed sleep she had had on the bus, the rough roads, sharp bends and judder of the diesel engine combining to deny her much needed rest. Natasha seemed to be faring better, children can sleep anywhere, she thought as she had stroked her hair. It helps that she's small and can curl up to sleep across the seats on top of me. The image of Natasha disappearing right in front of her had been replaying itself over and over again. If we ever get through this, when we get through this, she quickly corrected herself; I will make damn sure that Natasha has a proper life, a home with a garden and a pet to play with. It amazed Solomon how quickly something becomes routine, the search for food and the next means of travelling on had become their entire way of life. The food that evening had been Köfte, a dish of meat and vegetables rolled into balls. Solomon couldn't decide if it was beef or lamb, only that it had tasted terrific and she had devoured it greedily. Natasha ate hers in a more leisurely manner, as if she was Turkish born and bred.
They did a little shopping for clothes. Disposing of those they had ruined on their journey over the mountains, they purchased local so that they fitted in more. Our money is dwindling fast, we still have a journey across water to make, two water crossings in fact, and those are never cheap.
When she purchased their train tickets for the journey to Ankara, Solomon found that the fare was modest. At last some good news. They approached the platform and joined the queue. Solomon looked out ahead to the front of the queue and could make out uniforms, black hats with silver and red badges. Police, she thought, has to be. Solomon squatted down next to Natasha, telling her to mingle with the group ahead, which seemed to consist of four parents and about ten children. Solomon hung back, keeping her head down and eyes on the ground.
Natasha made it through without a problem, Solomon keeping close behind the elderly couple in front of her. As they reached the front of the queue, the old woman lost her grip on her bag. The fruit and vegetables she was carrying spilling out onto the platform, the round ones rolling some distance. For an instant, Solomon stood face to face with the two policemen. She swooped down onto all fours and helped recover the escaping items of food. As she gathered some together a hand reached out to her face offering her a wayward orange, she took it and feeling compelled looked up at the person who retrieved it.
'Orada sen gitmek vuramamak’ the officer said smiling.
Solomon had no idea what he said, just smi
led back at him and turned round before she stood up, dropping the items she had collected back into the old woman's bag. The elderly couple edged towards the train, Solomon's head swayed as she followed them. She ushered Natasha onto the train and found somewhere to sit, beads of sweat dropping from her brow. As the train pulled out of the station, tears found their way down her face, the strain too much to hold. A small hand reached out to hers.
'It will be OK mummy, I promise.' Natasha climbed on to her mother's lap and hugged her tight. The tears started to subside, Natasha holding her mother tight whilst she fell asleep.
10:28 04 November [08:28 04 November GMT]
Ankara, Turkey.
The train journey had taken almost an entire day. They walked through Ankara and into a bustling marketplace providing them with a melee of sounds and smells. The stallholders calling out to the passing shoppers, the smell of the freshly cooked local foods and the sight of hundreds of people, a mix of locals and tourists, milling about, inspecting what was on offer.
As they approached a food stall, lured there by the smell of fresh bread, they could see that the stallholder was offering his own variety of Köfte, plus various other local fare. Solomon swung her rucksack off her back to extract some money. She felt a sharp tug and turned round to see a boy with her rucksack running through the crowd, darting through this way and that moving like a fish through water. All Solomon could think was, our life is in that bag! She grabbed Natasha's hand and made off after the thief, Natasha bobbing behind her like a balloon. The thief didn't get very far. A pair of Turkish policeman had seen the thief swoop and had moved to intercept. The boy, who couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, was struggling against the officer holding him. He kicked and bit the policeman like a wild thing. Solomon's heart was in her mouth as she almost ran into the officers. The boy, now handcuffed to the first officer was led away. The second officer had hold of Solomon's rucksack.
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