Queen of the Masquerade (Rosie Maldonne's World Book 3)

by Alice Quinn

  “What?”

  “Snuff movies.”

  “What does he mean?” Léo asked me.

  I shrieked at Borelli, “Watch it! This boy’s a minor too! What will his mother say if she knows we’ve been talking like this in front of him? He’s too young to be hearing about such horrors! Drop it!”

  Léo was just about to protest when Borelli snapped. “He’s not too young, Maldonne. It’s always better to have knowledge than not. This is going on all around us, and it’s better to avoid traps than find out some other way. Knowledge is power.”

  I didn’t know what to say. He was totally right.

  “So, what’s a snuff movie?” Léo insisted, staring at Borelli.

  Borelli eyed us both nervously and then lowered his head. I don’t think he could bring himself to elaborate.

  We all waited for someone to break the silence. Each of us lost in our thoughts. I often say that the person who knows how to get me to shut my big trap hasn’t been born yet, but I had to admit, right then I had nothing to say. There are no words for such things. I kept telling myself that we weren’t talking about animals here. We weren’t talking about some weird mutant race. These were human beings doing this. People like me. We had the same makeup. It’s a cop-out to call them monsters.

  Borelli stood, took a few steps, and then returned to his seat. He sat back down again. He banged his fist on the table and turned a bright shade of purple. He shouted, “I don’t want to see you anywhere near these people. They’re trash! Trash of the worst kind! Hello? Are you still with me here?”

  “Yes,” whispered Léo almost inaudibly.

  “Yes,” I sighed, trying to put a brave face on things.

  He calmed down some. “Albania isn’t the only place supplying these children. On the market at the moment, you can add Poland, Hungary, Romania, Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Belarus, and Russia. The Middle East isn’t organized enough yet. They’re too busy with all their wars. So, basically, Western Europe demands and Eastern Europe supplies.”

  “And what can we do about it?”

  “It’s delicate. Very delicate. But what can you do about it? Nothing! As for us, we’re doing what we can.”

  “It’s disgusting!” cried Léo. “Why can’t you do your jobs? Erina hasn’t done anything! She doesn’t even know what she’s carrying! She’s being beaten. And there are a ton of people making money out of this! Lining their pockets! And there are folks here—cops, the government—who all know what’s going on!”

  “That’s the way of the world,” Borelli said. “It’s been like this since records began. And it’s always the youngest who suffer. Even though Erina isn’t responsible for what’s happened to her, she’ll be paying for it for the rest of her life. When the authorities decide to go in for the kill, they’ll sweep Erina up like she was nothing more than a grain of sand.”

  Léo flipped. “What are you going to do for her?”

  Borelli spoke slowly, his tone reassuring. He was trying help Léo manage his emotions. “We should be able to protect her. We need to get her away from Murrash. Murrash destroys everything in his path. It won’t bring an end to what’s going on between Albania and France—we’re a long way from solving that issue. But it should get Erina out of danger. You’ve put your finger on a network here. We need to find out how big it is. Well, how long’s a piece of string, you know? But one thing’s certain: if we don’t go about this correctly, Erina, given her young age, might be sent back to her country, where the authorities could very well imprison her, or she could end up caught up with the same types of people and find herself back at square one. We may lose sight of her forever.

  “Another possibility is that she could spend a few years in a detention center here in France. Or even juvenile prison, in which case these men, or men like them, will pick her up when she gets out. And then it would be prostitution for her. We wouldn’t be able to protect her in that scenario, because she’d be an adult. The best thing for her would be for us to find out if she still has family somewhere—a family who gives a shit—and take it from there. That’s our best shot.”

  “But we can’t just let these bastards continue what they’re doing!” I cried. “It’s not just her! They’ve got a little boy too! Even younger!”

  “I didn’t say I’d let them continue, Maldonne. I’m doing my job. I’m trying to work out the best-case scenario for your young friend and the boy. The scenario with the least trouble, the least collateral damage. And I’m trying to figure it out before it’s too late. I can’t change the world.”

  “Why can’t you just arrest them? Or we could go fetch Erina nice and quietly and then deal with the rest of those bastards later down the line! She’s waiting for us at the fountain!”

  “We know the gang you’re talking about, and we know what we can charge some of them with, but for the others, we don’t have any hard proof yet. We need to find out who their boss is. They have a contact here in France, and we want a name. We don’t have anything. No idea who it is. Nor how they’re communicating. We can’t listen in on any calls. They’re always changing numbers, swapping lines—by the time we get a wire up and running, all the authorizations it entails, they’ve changed their phone. I know there’s a guy in charge. Someone here in this one-horse town of ours. He’s the one ordering all this. We need him.” He glanced at Léo. “In any case, I don’t want to see either of you hanging around this thing. Keep away from my case. It’s too dangerous. I hope you realize that. Also, you could risk messing it up.”

  “But we’re not just going to leave Erina and the boy with those evil pigs! They’re the ones in danger! Not us!” yelled Léo.

  “Hey! Cool it, young man! If you really want to help us, you’re just going to have to let it go. And I’ll help you out on my side. I’ll let you know what’s happening as it happens.”

  “Bull. It won’t be enough.” Léo sulked.

  “OK, so if I need your help, I’ll call you. How about that?” Borelli asked.

  We stood up without giving an answer. I started hunting around in my bag, buying time. I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t deal with being out of the picture. Borelli strode around his desk and held me by the shoulders.

  “Get off my back, Maldonne. Give it up, would you? I’m warning you. If I catch you on my tail, don’t bother coming to me for help again. Get your act together. Mind your own business and leave it to the pros.”

  “Let me go, Borelli! Just because you lent me a hand once or twice in the past, you think I’m your pawn or something now?”

  I pulled myself free from his grip and marched out of his office, my head held high. Léo followed. The poor boy was worried to death.

  35

  We left the police station in the most depressed mood ever. As we plodded along toward the bus shelter, Borelli watched us from his office window. We sat on the bench in silence. A bus arrived, but we didn’t take it. We looked at each other. Léo was waiting for me to talk first.

  “Should we get a move on?” I said.

  “What, you mean we’ll go search for her?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer, but stood instead and trotted off in the direction of the town center and the fountain. With a little bit of luck, Gaston would have passed on the message to Erina and she’d still be there.

  I didn’t know whether Borelli was still watching us. I didn’t care.

  We slogged for a hell of a long time before we reached the fountain. There was a heap of tourists flocking about, but no Erina. And no Gaston. We waited for five minutes and then decided we’d be better off heading over to the Albanian joint.

  As soon as we were in the miserable little alleyway, we crept up to the place. We went around the back, careful not to make a sound. The scrap of fabric they used as a curtain had been moved slightly to one side. We could see in pretty clearly.

  Murrash was sitting at the table with two goony-looking friends or accomplices or gang members or whatever you’d call them. They were sh
itfaced. The main guy looked angry, on top of that. It seemed like they were chatting about something serious. I couldn’t catch what they were saying. They must have been speaking Albanian, but Murrash was dropping in a few French words every now and again.

  I managed to catch “She’d be good. That’s what I’ve been saying all along!”

  The other two protested.

  “She’s never been taken,” he said at one point. What was this? Were they talking about Erina?

  Whatever was being discussed, the three of them weren’t agreeing. Murrash was furious as he spat out, “’Rina!”

  She came out of her cupboard with the little angel we’d seen the day before attached to her skirt. Little Kholia. They were shaking with fear.

  “You, sweetheart, you’ll be worth the wait! If you fuck this up . . .” He ran his thumb across her neck. “This is what will happen to your dickhead of a father. Capisce?”

  Erina didn’t answer. She didn’t cry either. Murrash certainly didn’t care either way. He sneered along with the other two soulless bastards before threatening her some more in his loud, drunken voice. I only just managed to stop Léo from breaking through the window. We wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. Three professional tough guys against the likes of us?

  “Know what?” Murrash said. “You’re making me lose face in front of my partners here! Running away all the fucking time!”

  He lifted his fist, but one of the other two stopped him just in time. He must have wanted to protect his merchandise.

  The little boy started to whimper.

  “That’s enough, let’s go!” yelled Murrash.

  He grabbed the little child’s sleeve. The boy put up a good fight. He held on with all his might to Erina’s skirt. He was in such a frenzy! A force to be reckoned with! But Murrash gave him a smack and stormed out of there with the boy. His two pieces-of-scum friends followed.

  We ran toward the front to see what was happening, hiding around the side of the building so they wouldn’t spot us. They used the door (I didn’t know they could, since Erina and the boy always used the window), taking care to lock it carefully behind them and replace the boards. We had just about enough time to run into a nearby derelict outhouse. Risky business.

  We watched as they slithered away.

  Léo grabbed an old wooden crate from a rickety shelf and smashed it onto the ground. He took a piece of the broken wood, and a few minutes later, we came out. I think he felt safer with his new weapon.

  We climbed the front steps and opened the window. Erina was too terror stricken to come out. Léo scrambled in while I kept watch. They came out together. She was a shaky mess.

  And that’s when the three of us beat it. I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever sprinted that fast in my entire life. And I should know. I’ve done a fair amount of running. We didn’t even look behind us. We had just the one goal in mind—to get Erina somewhere safe.

  Jeez, we ran for it. I’m talking Olympic-level, maybe even medal-winning, speed.

  Léo raced ahead, but a thought struck me. He didn’t know where he was going. He just knew he had to get there fast.

  We arrived at an intersection and I hollered, “Over here! This way! Follow me!”

  We were on the road to Gaston’s house, and we weren’t all that far, but I was running out of breath. I stopped and tried to catch it. I reached for my cell in my pocket. He’d asked us to call, so now was as good a time as any. There was no point continuing on to his house if he wasn’t there.

  Before I even had time to dial, we saw the Jag. I waved like a maniac and Gaston stopped. Of course he did.

  “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me?”

  I was still breathing like a sick camel, but I managed to say, “We were heading to your house! Well, I mean, we wanted to go to my house . . . no, to Amar’s place. Oh, I don’t even know, Gaston!”

  “Amar’s place. That’s a super idea,” chirped Gaston. “Everyone hop in! I’m always ready to give folks a ride!”

  Erina probably didn’t have the foggiest idea what was happening, but she didn’t ask. The explanations could come later. Now, we had to get cracking. Our asses needed to be in gear. Top gear. She had to follow us. She had to have total trust in us.

  Gaston just drove. No questions asked. Every now and again, I noticed he glanced in the rearview mirror at Erina. He was intrigued by her, I could tell.

  We got there! Into the underground parking lot, the building, the elevator. I found the keys, opened the door, closed and locked it behind us. Aaaaaaaannnnnnndddd breathe! Phew! We were saved!

  We took a couple of seconds to adjust to our safe haven, stared at one another—and cracked up! It wasn’t a normal laugh full of good humor. It was a nervous, anxious, manic kind of snickering. But I guess it did us some good. Laughing has to be better than crying, right?

  “Honestly, Cricri, who are you?” snorted Gaston between giggles.

  Our howling slowed down and our breathing returned to normal. It all went quiet while we took stock.

  I inspected Erina and the traces of bruising on her face and croaked, “Bintou, could you show Erina where the bathroom is, please? I think she’d like a little time to freshen up.”

  Léo looked at me gratefully and Bintou took Erina by the hand.

  36

  Just as I stepped into the living room, the telephone rang. Good God. Never a quiet minute.

  I headed to the office to pick it up. With a hop, skip, and a jump, I managed it just in time.

  A sexy Canadian accent said, “Rachel?”

  “Uhhhh . . .”

  “Listen, I’m in the neighborhood. I wondered if . . . if . . . it might be an idea. What do you think?”

  “If what might be an idea?”

  I knew. Of course I knew! I was sure of it! But I wanted to hear him say it, because I couldn’t quite believe it.

  “If I came to see you now. Then we could have a quick chat before I took you out for the evening. On a real date. So, what do you think?”

  “Well . . .” I hesitated but succumbed. “OK, I’m on my way!” I hung up.

  A crowd had gathered in the office. Everyone was standing around, but I couldn’t actually see their faces. My eyes were staring into the distance.

  “What did I just do?” I was flummoxed, to say the least. “I’ve got a problem here! Have I lost my mind or what? I just agreed to a date!”

  I paced the office. Everyone started talking at the same time. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror Amar had hanging on the far wall.

  “No way! Look at the state I’m in!”

  I pulled at my long hair. OMG. It was filthy.

  Bintou decided it was time to get involved.

  “Wait, Madame Maldonne, please. Let me help. There’s no need to panic. I know exactly what you need. You don’t want to go too sexy. You need to be classy with an intellectual twist. Something in linen. Yeah, that’s right. Linen with a hint of silk. A dress. A nice little dress. Not too long, because you have stunning legs. You should take a look at what I bought for you! You’ll like it and it’ll do the trick, mark my words. We’ll brush out your roots, cut off your split ends, change the color, tone it down with some conditioner, blow-dry it a little, and you’re good to go!”

  “What about the opera?” whined Laroche.

  “Later, later! This is real life and it’s happening right now!” replied Bintou.

  I stopped listening as I ran out. The bathroom was where I needed to be. On the way there, I stepped over the electricity guy. He was sleeping in the hall. The others followed me and did the same thing. It was as if we’d gotten used to him being somewhere in the apartment on the floor. How many times had it been now? He was part of the furniture.

  “Yeah, he’s here again,” Bintou said. “He wanted me to apologize! Can you believe that? I know I shouldn’t have kicked him again, but I couldn’t help it. It’s like my foot has a mind of its own when it comes to this guy.”

&n
bsp; We crossed paths with Erina as she came out of the bathroom in a fluffy terrycloth robe. She’d washed up and put new dressings on her cuts and bruises. I smiled at her. I really would have liked to have spoken to her for a while, but we weren’t on our own. We had an audience.

  I took a couple of seconds to say, “Erina, you can sleep in my room tonight with my daughters. Sabrina will show you where everything is.”

  The twins pulled at her robe for her to follow them into the kitchen. They love nothing better than a houseguest, that pair. Léo went with them, and I heard him ask if she felt like a bite to eat.

  I wasn’t able to battle against Bintou’s bossiness. She really is something else! Before I knew it, I’d been sat down, stripped, wrapped up in several bath towels, and given a full-on beauty treatment. She filed my nails into pretty shapes and straightened out my hair so it was smooth and glossy. Like I’d just stepped out of the salon! She didn’t have the time or means to change my color, so luckily we didn’t need to have that fight. Her argument was that my roots were brown, so the rest of my hair should be. She said a chestnut brown would be classy. I disagreed and argued that red was more stylish and it suited me and I looked goooooood! It had said “Hot Red” on the box, and that sounded sexy to me! Hell yeah!

  Bintou held out a Max Mara dress. I pushed it away.

  “Where’s your head at? Can you really see me in that thing? What do I look like to you?”

  “You look like a psychiatrist,” she declared in her straightforward tone. “A shrink with a well-heeled clientele.”

  “That’s all well and good in your world, Bintou, but I’m not a shrink, I’m—”

  “A maid! Yes, I know,” she sang.

  “No! It’s not that! I’m me. That’s who I am! And I don’t wear dresses like that. I think it looks like it’s from the olden days or something. I wear sexy shit! Mimi, Léo’s mom, passes stuff on to me. Hot rags, you know?”