Stolen Souls

80

GALYA WAITED IN the passenger seat as Lennon examined the car’s rear. Even with the coat wrapped tight around her, she felt the night’s cold, dark fingers creep in through the broken window behind her. She shivered through the fatigue that wracked her body. Too exhausted to be afraid, all she wanted now was sleep.

Lennon opened the driver’s door and lowered himself in. “It’s not that bad,” he said, his breath misting. “It’ll drive, anyway.”

They had toured the streets for half an hour, winding from one row of darkened houses to another, the policeman constantly watching his rearview mirror until he was certain they were not being followed. Only then did he stop to check the damage.

He restarted the engine and pulled away from the curb, once more picking his way through the frozen streets.

After several minutes of silence, Galya asked, “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” Lennon said. “But I know who sent him.”

“Who?”

“Arturas Strazdas,” he said. “The brother of the man you killed.”

The woman at the hospital had explained the aftermath of Galya’s actions to her in a soft, sad voice. At the time, it seemed like a story, a tale about some other girl who had been brought to a strange city to be bought and sold.

“I didn’t want to kill that man,” Galya said. “I didn’t want these things to happen.”

“I know you didn’t,” Lennon said. “But I don’t think that matters to him.”

He turned left onto a roundabout, then exited to a long, straight road. Lennon slowed the car as they approached a cluster of buildings surrounded by a high wall. Floodlights cut through the fog that covered the site. Next to a closed pair of gates were emblazoned the words: LADAS DRIVE STATION, POLICE SERVICE OF NORTHER IRELAND.

Lennon stopped the car and shut the engine off. He stared at the building.

“Is this where you’re taking me?” Galya asked.

“Yes,” Lennon said. “It was, anyway.”

“Was?”

He sat silent for a moment, his forearms resting on the steering wheel, thinking, his breath misting the car’s windshield.

“Please, what is wrong?”

He did not answer.

“Out here, on the streets, it is not safe,” Galya said. “We should go in that place.”

“No,” Lennon said.

“Why?” Galya asked.

He took a mobile phone from his pocket and searched for a number.