Jane Higgins - The Bridge

We were walking on gag-inducing sludge through a tunnel of shack walls stuck together, badly, in a jigsaw of corregated iron and wooden slats held in place by nails half banged in and bent at crazy angles. If I put my hands out I could touch both sides at once. Our only light came from cracks in the walls where lamplight bled through, and from the moonlit strip of sky above us.

We followed Goran’s group around a corner into another alley exactly the same. Then another. And another. As we made our way through a maze of twisting, narrow spaces we fell into a pattern of one of us going ahead and watching for where they turned next, then beckoning to the other. They weren’t hard to follow – they were in high good humor, or maybe they were just high. They stopped at last beside a tall wire fence with a padlocked gate. Goran let them all in, glanced up and down the alley, then locked the gate and disappeared inside.

I started towards it, but Lanya grabbed my arm. ‘No, no, no. Wait! What are you doing?’

‘Taking a look.’

‘Listen to me! They’re dealers. And with a fence like that, they’ll be traffickers as well. There are people in there they don’t want to let out. If you try to get in, they will kill you. And you don’t even know if Sina is there.’

‘It’s all I’ve got. I’m just gonna look. I won’t go in.’

‘Ask Levkova for help.’

‘I’m just gonna look.’ I shrugged off her hand and walked up to the fence. Inside it I could see three shacks and a larger, more solid building behind them. A lantern hung from the porch of one of the shacks and lit the groundspace in front; it was scratched and scuffed where someone had tried to grow something, or bury something. A washing line draggled rags between a rainwater barrel and a latrine. No signs of life.

Around me the alley was dark and quiet.

I figured that Goran and his team would be snoring by now; they’d been drunk enough. If the fence could hold my weight, I could get in and take a look around. I hated the thought that Fyffe might be in there. Was probably in there, since she’d followed this man, then disappeared. I couldn’t leave without looking.

The fence was tall. I could’ve reached the top of it at full stretch if my ribs had been working properly. I put a hand on the wire lattice, gripped it, shook it lightly. It felt solid enough. I gripped a fence pole, pushed a boot into the lattice, and hauled myself up. The fence creaked. I froze. Looked around. Couldn’t see anyone. Grasped the top of the fence pole. Pulled myself up another few feet. Nearly there.

A hand grabbed my ankle and someone hauled hard on my coat. I crashed onto the ground. Pain exploded in my ribs. A man dragged me upright and stuck his arm round my neck, just about lifting me off my feet. I gagged and tried to struggle but the pain had left me gasping.

A knife, sharp, cold and to the point, pressed my cheek. ‘Well,’ said a voice in my ear, ‘Look what we have here! What are you doin’, soldier boy?’

‘Nothing! Just looking.’

‘Nope. Don’t believe you.’ The knife pressed harder; I felt blood trickle down my face. ‘We don’t like to be spied on. It ain’t good for our peace of mind. You could lose an ear or an eye at this point. With this point.’

He laughed at his joke. ‘As a message to other snoopers. Hold still – or it’ll be both.’

Stupid. Stupid to think that traffickers would leave themselves unguarded. I tried to see the knife, afraid of what it would do next. I was thinking, hoping, that maybe he’d take me inside. It would make it worth getting caught if I could find Fyffe. But he sounded as if he’d rather carve me up there in the alley.

‘Which is it to be?’ he said. ‘Ear?’ He flicked the knife point at my ear lobe. I tried to slow my breathing. Tried to think. The blood was pounding in my head. ‘Eye?’ He drew the point from the corner of my eye across my temple. I tried not to flinch in case he slipped. ‘Choose!’ he said.

Then he grunted, his legs went from under him and we collapsed on the ground. Lanya was shouting, ‘RUN!’ I scrambled up and raced after her down the alley.

We ran, stumbling through sludge, pushing ourselves off walls and round corners, glancing over our shoulders for the lookout or his mates. At last Lanya stopped, hands on knees. I leaned on a wall, breathing hard. She grinned up at me. ‘My boot, his knee. He won’t follow in a hurry.’

I blew out a breath. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I think it’s fair to say that you don’t owe me anything anymore.’

She stood up. ‘I told you.’

‘Not that they’d have a lookout.’

‘No. We should have guessed. What now? You look a mess, by the way.’

I touched my temple. Blood. I was starting to shake. The adrenaline was wearing off and my ribs felt seriously bad. ‘I don’t know what now.’ I looked back the way we’d come. ‘I couldn’t find it again if I tried.’

‘I could.’ She held up a hand to shut me up. ‘On one condition.’

Her face blurred in front of me and my knees buckled. I crouched on the ground, thinking how useless I was at all this. ‘Only one?’ I said, and tried to smile at her. ‘Name it.’

‘You must ask Levkova for help.’

Pounding on the door jolted me upright. I was sitting on my mattress, still in yesterday’s clothes. I grabbed a lantern and lit it with shaky fingers while Max struggled out of bed, swearing and shrugging on his coat. He took the light and went out into the living room, closing the door behind him. I opened it a crack and peered out.

‘Easy there!’ he called. ‘Take it easy! I’m coming.’ He opened the door to two young guys in battle gear. They gave him the half bow and one of them said, ‘Morning, sir!’

‘What in the name of all the known gods is going on!’ That was Levkova. More saluting.

‘Sub-commander Levkova?’ said one of them.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Rémy. It’s the middle of the night! And freezing. Come in and close the door. What’s happened?’

‘It’s 5.30am, ma’am. Wanted to give you a good start.’

‘A what?’

‘Time, madam.’ A new voice. Queasily familiar. ‘Time to pack.’ No-neck from the hearing pushed his way inside.

‘Councillor Terten,’ said Levkova. ‘How did I miss you there? What do you mean?’

‘Time to pack , I said. We need these rooms. For people on active service.’

Levkova frowned at him. ‘I see. I have some spare floor space for an extra—’

‘No, no, no. Listen , woman!’ No-neck waved a piece of paper at her. ‘Your eviction notice.’ He lumbered over to the table and slammed the paper down. Then he moved on around the room, ran a fat finger along the spines of books on the shelves, leafed through the book on Max’s armchair and sat down. ‘You are to be out by Wednesday.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Levkova looked steely and furious together.

‘You heard, madam. You have three days. If you use them wisely you can throw out a lifetime’s rubbish.’ He nodded towards the bookshelves. ‘This furniture, though.’ He patted the arm of the chair and looked around. ‘Stays.’

‘It’s my furniture.’

‘I doubt it. And you won’t have room for it.’

‘Don’t doubt, Councillor. It is mine. Won’t have room where? Where are we to go?’

‘To whoever will have you.’ He stood up. ‘If any will.’

‘And Suzannah Montier? She shares these rooms.’

‘The Montier woman is not my concern. I understand she was not in the Marsh when it was liberated?’

‘No. ISIS have taken her somewhere else. We don’t know where.’

‘You should take more care of your protégés, Sub-commander.’ He turned on his heel and left. The two young guys shuffled behind him.