John Davis - The Year of Dangerous Loving

Hargreave didn’t want to hear that. ‘Were you allowed out?’

‘Only when the KGB trust you. But if you run away they will catch you. And how can you run away without a passport?’

‘Did you try?’

‘Not then. Natasha tried. They killed her.’

Lord. You poor child. ‘So the KGB were still functioning despite being disbanded?’

‘No, the Mafia was controlling us. But many KGB are Mafia now.’

Yes, Hargreave thought, that was common knowledge. Right now the Hong Kong police were trying to deal with the Russian Mafia who were using Hong Kong as a staging post for international smuggling. And here he was sitting in the Bella Mar Hotel with one of the Mafia’s girls: in principle he was compromising himself. But he did not care, he was happy for the first time in a long while, he was having a lovely day with this exotic girl, and she had nothing to do with smuggling – prostitution in Macao and smuggling in Hong Kong were far removed from each other, the one almost legal, the other not. Nonetheless he said:

‘Please don’t tell any of your friends who I am.’

She smiled. ‘Of course not, darling. In my business you must be discreet. You would be surprised what important Hong Kong people come to us, but I won’t tell even you.’

Even him? That felt like a compliment. He said, ‘Vladimir, the guy who came with the credit-card machine this morning, he wouldn’t know who I am, he wouldn’t read the papers, would he? He’s got my name now.’

‘No. And even if he knew he wouldn’t do anything, he only wants business.’

‘Is he a big noise in the Mafia, or is he just a pimp?’

‘A pimp. He says he was KGB, a big man, but he is nothing.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t worry, darling, I won’t let anybody hurt you, I like you.’

He liked her too, he just didn’t like a pimp knowing his name. But he put it out of his mind. For heaven’s sake, the Triad societies controlled most of the girlie-bars and brothels in Hong Kong, did that mean every government official who went to a girlie-bar in Wanchai was compromising himself?

‘And how long were you in Istanbul?’ he said.

‘Almost three years. Then I was sent back to Moscow. That is when I tried to run away. One of my girlfriends was from Estonia, which had become independent from Russia, she said it was nice there, we can make a new life. But I had no passport, the Mafia had it. So I bought a gun, and we went on the train and I tried to hide when we crossed the border. But the Estonian police found me and sent me back to Moscow. I was very worried. I got a job in a café but the Mafia soon found me. They punished me because they said I had not finished my contract, and they kept me in an apartment and made me work.’

‘Your contract? Had you signed a contract?’

‘Yes. I signed many forms when they said I was training for diplomatic work.’

‘For how long was this contract?’

‘Three years. But now I am on a one-year contract.’

‘And how did they punish you?’

‘They beat me with their fists. But not too bad because I had to be in good condition to work. But they said next time they would kill me. So I did not try to run away again.’

Oh you poor child. ‘So they made you work in a whorehouse?’

‘No, I was sent out to customers in the big hotels, like the Metropole. That is a famous Moscow hotel. But I always had a guard with me. Then, after two months, they sent me here, to Macao. As a “dancer”.’

What a sad history. ‘How do you like it here?’

‘I like it. Here we are free, because we cannot escape to China, or Hong Kong. I like Macao.’

‘And the work?’ Please God she didn’t like the work.

She shrugged. ‘I am used to it. It means nothing now, to me it is just like being a gymnast, or being a tennis player. What else can I do?’

Oh dear . But it had meant something last night, and this morning, hadn’t it – all that hadn’t been faked, had it? ‘And how long will you stay?’

‘Until next Thursday. My Macao work-permit is finished then.’

Next Thursday? Hargreave stared at her. And what he felt was No … Oh, no, she couldn’t just disappear, this gorgeous girl.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Back to Russia. Moscow.’

‘And in Moscow you go back to work? Where?’

‘I don’t know. In the big hotels.’ She smiled. ‘Will you visit me, darling?’

Jesus. ‘But do you want to go?’

‘No. I would like to stay here.’ She grinned: ‘Then you can visit me every weekend?’

‘Can’t you get your work-permit extended?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘The Portuguese police? They will want a lot of cumshaw to extend it. And Vladimir’s boss says it is important to change the girls every year.’

‘How much cumshaw will the Macao police want?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps a thousand US dollars.’

Lord, was he mad to be thinking like this? It was on the tip of his tongue to say ‘I’ll pay it’, but instead he asked, ‘And would Vladimir agree?’

She beamed at him. ‘Oh darling, do you really want to do it? So I can work –’ she made her eyes sparkle – ‘really work with you?’

Oh Lord, Lord … He grinned weakly. ‘Would Vladimir agree?’

‘Vladimir, yes, but I do not know about his boss.’

‘Who’s his boss – where is he?’

‘He is in Moscow, I have never seen him. But I think he will agree, why not? Oh darling!’ She squeezed both his hands. ‘Is this really true?’

Hargreave sat back. Oh God, what was he doing? He smiled.

‘I must think. It’s a lot of money.’ He hated saying it – a gentleman does not talk about money at a time like this. And that’s only the start of it, he thought, she would expect him back each weekend.

‘Yes, a lot of money, I understand. And now your wife, too.’ Then she brightened: ‘Do not worry, darling – we still have a whole afternoon and a whole night!’ She grinned: ‘And I am going to make it so wonderful for you that you will say yes! What do you want? Do you want handstands? Backward somersaults? Belly dancing?’

Hargreave threw back his head and laughed.

And, oh dear, it almost felt like love. He knew it was not, of course, but that was how it felt.

She did make it wonderful. Afterwards, lying on the big four-poster bed under the ceiling fan she whispered, ‘And you were wonderful. Last night you were drunk, and you had no dinner, but finally you were okay. This morning you had a big hangover, and you’d had no breakfast yet, but you were good. But this afternoon you had your breakfast and your lunch, and you were wonderful! I had a lovely orgasm, darling.’

‘Did you really?’ He felt very pleased. Mediocre performance of same , huh?

‘Yes.’ She leaned on her elbow and looked at him earnestly. ‘Didn’t you know? That was real . Oh, okay –’ she swept her hair from her eyes – ‘prostitutes always pretend, huh? To make the man finish quicker? Right, that’s what I do – but with you ? No. That was real. You know why?’

‘Why?’

‘Because you are a very sexy man. And because I like you so much.’

Him, a sexy man? He grinned – he wished Liz’s lawyers could hear this. Olga flopped down beside him again. She snuggled against him.

‘I was going to say I love you. That is what I sometimes have to say. It is bullshit, of course, but that is what they like to hear, maybe. But I will not bullshit you. So I say, I like you, very much.’

He squeezed her golden shoulders. ‘And I like you, very much.’

‘Okay. So now I let you go to sleep, and when I wake up I give you another triple-A blowjob so you like me more, then I do a belly dance, then some backward somersaults, then we have a nice dinner. Oh …’ she squeezed him, ‘I do not want to go back to Russia.’