The Trafficked

62

Becky looked at her watch. Mann had said to give him twenty minutes, to make sure he was well into conversation with them before she left. It had only been eight.

She made the last check around the room and then pulled out a piece of paper. There was a sketch map and the name of the airfield. It was so lucky that all the signs were in English. It all looked straightforward. It was just a couple of kilometres away, basically up the lane towards the neighbouring town, then take a left. Mann had already settled the bill the night before, so all she had to do was pick up the bags, walk out and get a trike to take her to the airstrip. In that case, why was her heart pounding? Why did she feel so anxious? She looked at her watch again. It would only take ten minutes from the room to the Flamingo bar, and that was at Filipino pace. She moved the bags to the door. It was time to go. Mann would nearly be there by now; she could leave without arousing suspicion. She turned the handle and pulled the door open. As she bent down to pick up the bags she saw legs, feet and expensive trainers-no one round here would wear those. She didn’t look up; instead she launched Mann’s bag forward at the legs and heard the man groan as he fell backwards. At the same time someone else pushed her back into the room. Becky looked up to see four Chinese men. She blocked a punch and turned side-on as she made a run for the door. A man stood in her way, his arms raised to stop her; she hooked her wrists over his and brought a knee up to his groin. He doubled over in pain then she felt the flash of pain as a fist slammed into the side of her head; then an arm tightened around her throat. Her feet were kicked from beneath her and her head smashed against the side of the bed as she fell to the floor.