by Anna Smith
*
Now, she slipped out of the bed, hurriedly got dressed and crept from the room. She had no idea where she was going, but Ricky and the thug who had been guarding her had been stupid enough to leave her case and her handbag in the hallway. They clearly hadn’t reckoned on her having the balls or being stupid enough to attempt an escape. But they were wrong. This was about survival now, and Helen knew if some Russian gangster was going to ask her questions then she’d get a bullet in the head no matter what her answers were. She gently eased open the door of the flat and tiptoed into the hall, carrying her suitcases and bag behind her. She got downstairs as fast as she could and out of the front door. Never in her life had she been as glad to step into the buzz of Glasgow centre with early-morning traffic everywhere. She spotted a black cab with its light on two cars back and waved furiously. It pulled in and she rushed forward, and more or less threw herself in the back seat, hurling her bags in first.
‘Where to, darlin’?’ The driver looked in the rear-view mirror.
For a second, she didn’t know what to say, because she hadn’t a clue where the hell she was headed. But she had to get out of the city fast. Her mind was a blur. She couldn’t go to Glasgow airport as that might be the first place they’d look. And they’d be looking soon.
‘Can you take me to Edinburgh? To the train station. Waverley?’
His eyes widened. ‘Sure, darlin’. But it’ll cost you. Listen, I don’t want to do myself out of a fare, but Queen Street station is just around the corner, and you’ll get a train every half-hour.’
‘No,’ Helen snapped. ‘Just take me to Edinburgh. I’m in a hurry. Could you just go now? Please. I need to move fast.’
The taxi pulled out onto the street.
‘Sure. No problem. It’s your money, doll.’
Chapter Fifteen
The meeting place was in a block of flats, and Rosie was already uneasy about it. Even the fact Nicu had established that the offices of the charity were on the ground floor did not make her feel any more confident. You could go into one of these dreary buildings along this side street and never come out, she’d remarked to Adrian as they drove from the hotel. Not surprisingly, he hadn’t reacted, just wore the deadpan expression he always did when he was going into something unknown. She knew he’d be considering all the dangers and, knowing him, he was already working on a worst-case scenario. Sometimes you had to grit your teeth and get on with it, she told herself as they turned off the main street. Nicu had already made a discreet recce of the street to see if he could gather any more useful intelligence on the business. But the fact that the charity’s office was situated at the back of a wine-importing firm ticked all the right boxes for Rosie. From what she’d seen in the documents Nicu had provided, Alan Lewis was a director of this firm, and also a director of the charity. If he didn’t know exactly what they were up to, if they were selling babies, then he should have. She was getting closer to the truth, and it kept her going.
Last night over dinner, the decision had been made that it would be better if Rosie and Adrian posed as a couple, rather than her and Matt. As far as Nicu could gather, most of the people who had bought children and babies were from Germany or the Netherlands, so the Romanians might react better to a couple who weren’t exclusively Brits. At least they hoped so. Nicu and Ariana, along with Matt, were in another car and were hanging around near enough so that Matt could snatch some shots if Rosie got lucky and the director of the adoption agency whom she was meeting came out of the building along with her at the end. It was a long shot. But even just knowing they were there was a little comfort, because right now her gut was in knots.
Adrian pulled the car up to the kerb and turned to her as he switched off the engine.
‘You are all right, Rosie? You have been quiet.’
She nodded. ‘I’m nervous.’ She attempted a half-smile. ‘You’ve seen me like this before. But I’ll be all right. I can do this.’ She knew she sounded as though she was trying to convince herself.
Adrian watched as she pulled her bag onto her shoulder. He reached across and touched her arm.
‘Rosie. I know you are nervous – especially after what happened to you in Glasgow a few months ago with Thomas Boag. Is difficult to come back from that, as I told you at the time. But you will be fine. These people will not suspect anything. I am sure of that. We are just a couple who want to have a baby. That’s what we have to believe.’
She looked at his pale face for a second, knowing that for him, anyway, this investigation meant so much more.
‘I know, I know. It’s the first time for months I’ve done anything that might be dangerous. Once we get in, I’ll be fine.’ She opened the door. She didn’t want to analyse this any more. Just get on with it. Rosie switched on her tape and the hidden camera. ‘C’mon. Let’s go.’
Inside the dark green gloomy hallway, they saw the wine-importing business’s façade. Large images of sun-kissed vineyards and some earthy-looking figures working with casks of wine. Another with a glass of red. They walked past the door towards the charity of Hands Across Europe, which Rosie had seen in the news, over the years, going from Glasgow to London to Romania, as they loaded up trucks with clothes and aid for stricken orphans. They knocked on the glass door and through the frosted panel they could see someone who looked like a woman sitting at an old desktop computer. She glanced up, her expression not changing, then stood up and came towards them. She opened the door.
‘We have an appointment. With Mr Georgescu. I am Ditmir Ahmeti and this is my wife, Elizabeth,’ Adrian said.
Rosie smiled, hoping she looked the part.
The woman nodded, said nothing, and stepped back to allow them in.
‘Wait here.’
She disappeared along a narrow corridor and Rosie watched as she knocked on a door, then opened it and stuck her head inside. She said something in Romanian and they heard a gruff voice answer. She came back halfway down the corridor and beckoned to them.
‘Come.’
Rosie felt a dryness in her mouth from tension as they walked along and she took as deep a breath as she could. She felt Adrian’s hand in hers. He didn’t even look at her.
The door opened, and as they stepped in Rosie saw a bald, squat man get up from behind a desk. Another man sat on a chair next to the wall, staring straight ahead.
‘Hello, hello. Welcome.’
The man came forward and shook their hands. Rosie felt the fleshy sweaty palm and hoped hers wasn’t just as cold and clammy.
‘I am Alex Georgescu. Sit. Please.’ He jerked his head towards the figure sitting against the wall. ‘My assistant Bogdan. He helps with the families.’
He didn’t stand up, but one quick glance at the build of him and Rosie sensed he wasn’t a fairy godmother – he was the muscle in case anything went wrong.
‘You want to adopt a child? Is good news for us, and for Romanian children. So let us begin.’
‘Thank you,’ Rosie said, clearing her throat. ‘I hope you can help us. We have looked for some time, and the red tape makes everything so complicated.’
He spread his hands. ‘I know. But it should not be like that. We are here to help people like you, and to help the children. Abandoned children. They would have nothing if it wasn’t for people like us. So much goes on with the court and the paperwork, often people like you give up. But we can make it easier.’
‘Thank you.’ Rosie smiled hopefully into his eyes. ‘But how?’
The man looked at her, narrowing his eyes, and then to Adrian. He leaned forward and sighed wearily.
‘You see, Romania is a very corrupt regime. Even now. After the dictator is dead, it is still corrupt at the top. People do not care for the children. They don’t care how many in the orphanages. We know what is best and how to give the children a better life.’ He paused. ‘But to do that, and to get over the red tape, we must deal with these people. I will put it blunt for you, for both of you. Here in Romania, you must
pay for everything. It is sad, but it is true.’
Rosie nodded, hoping her tape was picking this up.
‘We understand that,’ Adrian said. ‘We know what happens, and we want to go ahead with our plan. We are prepared for that. If you can help us to look after one of the children from here and make our own family, we will be so grateful.’
He nodded, looking pleased. He shuffled some papers on his desk as he glanced from Rosie to Adrian.
‘Now. You are quite young people, so do you want a new baby, or are you looking for a small child, like two or three years old?’
Rosie was wide-eyed. ‘You mean you can get us a newborn baby?’ She looked at Adrian, nonplussed. ‘It would be amazing also to look at that possibility. We were thinking of a young child, from the orphanages. We had assumed it was impossible to get a small baby. How are you able to do that? Are they in the orphanages as well?’
Silence, and Rosie hoped she hadn’t asked too many questions.
‘It is not so easy for a new baby. But they are there. It is possible.’ He leaned across his desk and clasped his hands. ‘Can I tell you something? Sometimes a woman is pregnant and maybe there is no money and she already has a child. Maybe the husband is drunk or not in the home. She wants the baby to have a good home and she cannot give it. So she comes to us. And we make it better for her.’
‘She gives the baby to you?’
He nodded reassuringly, as though it was commonplace.
‘Yes. We make her life a little better, and she knows the baby will have also the chance of a better life.’
Rosie nodded. ‘And will this baby have papers and a birth certificate, all the documents we need to take him or her home, if that is what we decide?’
‘Yes. Papers will be provided – official adoption paperwork.’
‘But it takes months with the courts.’
‘Not if you know the right people.’ He raised his eyebrows a little to emphasise his point.
‘So you would be able to do this in how long?’
‘Maybe in one or two weeks. We have babies coming in the next few days, but people from other places have made arrangements for them.’
To buy them, Rosie was thinking. They have already been ordered, like going to a high street store and ordering a piece of furniture. Jesus! This was dynamite and she prayed once more that her tape was working.
‘Thank you. And if we wanted to look at a small child, like one or two years old, or maybe a little older, how difficult is that?’
His demeanour was almost clerical.
‘Is easier. Much easier. The orphanages are full of children desperate for love. Nobody has the time to give them love here, and the place is not much staff and terrible conditions – even with the changes and improvements. It is very sad. But these kind of children can be made available very quickly. In a matter of days.’
‘Really? That’s incredible.’
‘Incredible. But sad.’ He took a breath and let it out slowly. ‘You want we can take you to an orphanage this day and you can have a look at some toddlers and some children?’
‘You can actually do that today?’ Rosie enthused, looking at Adrian. ‘That would be fantastic.’
‘Is no problem to do. But you must prepare yourself because it is difficult to see children in these conditions. Every one of them wants to go home with you. You understand what I mean. The children, especially the small ones, they will follow you everywhere.’
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’
‘So it is not an easy thing to do, walk into these places, and walk away.’
‘I know.’ She looked at Adrian. He spoke up:
‘We would like to go today, if it is possible.’
The man looked at his henchman and spoke in Romanian.
‘My assistant here will take you. I have some people to meet, but he will take you and let you see.’
This was all happening so fast. But there had been no mention of money.
‘Can you tell me . . . if we decide to do this. You see, we don’t really know how it works, or if we have to pay for documents, you know, to make it flow easier.’
He waved his hands. ‘You don’t have to worry or go to court or any of that. I will organise all that. But it is necessary to pay me, because I must make the way easier. You know. To make the way smooth. For example, from the boss of the home, to the people in the courts, and maybe for the parents to sign the baby over. Everything is money.’
‘You pay the parents?’
‘Well. We need to have a signature from them. Most of them don’t even visit their children. They are abandoned. But we still must have their approval. It is easy.’
‘So you pay them a lot of money?’
‘Not a lot. But there are other people in the chain who must be paid. So it will cost two thousand pounds. Do you understand that?’
‘And for that I will have a baby I can take home?’
He shook his head. ‘No. For a baby is more. It is three thousand and five hundred. Maybe a little more. The children from the orphanage are cheaper because there are so many of them. Not many babies. So they are more expensive.’
Like an exclusive sale in a big store, Rosie thought. Disgust rose in her throat. She could almost feel it coming off Adrian, who managed to look accepting nonetheless.
‘We are fine with that kind of money,’ Adrian said. ‘But I think we want to see the children in the orphanage first.’
‘Good. Then come. My assistant will take you. Then we can talk.’
Chapter Sixteen
The woman from the front of the office accompanied them on the trip to the orphanage. She sat in the front seat, exchanging a little conversation with the driver, but saying nothing at all to Adrian and Rosie, who were in the back. Rosie had nipped to the toilet before they left the office, to check that her wire and tape recorder were working, to see how much tape she had used and to insert a new tape. She wasn’t sure what form the orphanage visit would take or how long it would be. As Adrian took hold of her hand in the back of the car, she could tell from his look that he wanted them to look authentic as an ordinary couple: a little nervous and excited, in a foreign land, trying to adopt. She smiled, like the eager wife she was supposed to be. The only conversation they had was to remark on the lush scenery once they’d left the town, where the road became more rural and less populated. It stretched for miles, just a few houses and isolated smallholdings, and seemingly endless sweeping fields. They reached the turn-off for the orphanage. There was a long, tree-lined gravel drive full of potholes up the gradual slope to where a large, long, low, faded cream building stood. There was a play area outside with a couple of swings and a merry-go-round, and a small slide. The swing doors suddenly opened and half a dozen excited children aged around three or four came scampering out accompanied by a young woman in a green overall holding the hand of a little girl. As the car pulled up, some of them started to run towards it, but the woman shooed them towards the play area. All except one of them followed her as she ushered them, but a little boy still stood there, wide-eyed, watching as the car doors opened. Rosie got out of the back seat with the bag over her shoulder and looked down at him.
‘Hello, wee guy,’ she said as she closed the car door.
He stood for a second, fiddled shyly with his hands behind his back, his dark eyes liquid brown, his unkempt hair shimmering in the sun. He was wearing a checked shirt like a cowboy’s and a holster with a toy gun. Then he took two steps towards her and to her surprise threw his arms around her legs, clutching her tight. She reached down and ruffled his hair, knowing from experience in these places that you had to get away from that as quick as possible – for the child’s sake. They would cling to anything and anyone who they met, desperate for the hugs and human touch they so seldom received. The young woman shouted a name, and he turned around, easing his grasp. She was issuing an instruction. The driver got out and shooed him towards the park, as you would an errant puppy. He walked backwards, still smilin
g, then took his toy gun out, closed one eye, and pretended to shoot as he turned and ran towards the other children. Rosie looked at Adrian, who had been watching it with his arms folded, and she could almost see his mind turning over, wondering what it would have been like to have had a boy like that if his own had been allowed to live.
