CHAPTER 34. TUESDAY OCTOBER 6, 22:00.
So, now he knew. Maiorescu had set him up. There was no going back after tonight. He had to get the girls out of Odessa before they were found and sort out the mess he was in. Also, what worried him was Natalya. He was fond of her, maybe even loved her.
He dialled her cell several times but the call always diverted straight over to voicemail. Had Maiorescu hurt her bad or even killed her? He called Hetsko, the forger, and then drove over to the girls’ apartment block and leaned on the bell push.
He was starting to get used to the look of fear and horror that women gave him now when they saw his battered and bloody face and clothes.
"Where’s Yulia?"
"In the bathroom."
Caramarin hammered on the door. "C'mon. No time to waste." A pause. "I'll break it down if you want."
The toilet flushed. Yulia stepped out. He looked and wasn't surprised to see her pupils pinprick small and glazed over. She was wearing a low cut top and short skirt and a pair of cheap, red heels.
"You look like a whore. A cheap street walker. I don't know why I'm bothering."
"Please," said Ekaterina.
"I'll clean myself up a bit and then let’s move out."
He sponged the worst of the blood off, then picked up their bag and hurried to the VW Polo. Swung round and through light traffic to Hetsko's place. Hetsko was up and waiting for them. The forger handed Caramarin two blue Moldovan passports then took most of the rest of Caramarin's cash.
Flicking through the pages, Caramarin saw the forger had done a good job with the limited time available to him. As he said, they wouldn't get you into the U.S. But they would do for now. He nodded his thanks and took them back to the girls.
As soon as the Polo had turned the corner, the forger made a few calls on his cell.
"What's the use of that? I can't speak Moldovan." said Yulia.
"Romanian actually. Don't worry, it's quite easy. I picked it up by the time I was three."
"Thanks anyway. I'm sure you’ve done your best," said Ekaterina.
"There's a lot of Russian speakers in Moldova, you know. Especially in the Transnistria area. Anyway, we're going on to Romania. I know a man, a good man, who'll take care of you and get you on your feet."
A grimace of sorrow crossed his features.
"He's my brother-in-law. Well, my ex brother-in-law really. He works for a church charity and he'll help you."
Caramarin fell quiet and wouldn't say anything more. He put on Prosto Radio 102.5 FM and listened to the chart hits filling the silence in the car.
He filled up the tank with gas at a garage on the outskirts of Odessa and headed south-west along the M15 free way. Yulia said she needed to use the rest room again so he asked Ekaterina to keep an eye on her. Back in the car, Ekaterina sat next to him so Yulia could sleep stretched out on the back seat.
"It's about two hundred kilometres," he told Ekaterina. "You might want to grab some rest as well whilst you can."
The little Polo sped through the outer suburbs of Odessa and out into the flat farmland of the country. This time of night, their headlights were often the only points of light to be seen. There were few villages and the farms were sleeping. They passed a number of lorries and tankers on their way to or from Romania or Moldova but it felt so different from the hustle and bustle of the city.
On their left, the expanse of the Dniester estuary opened up, a black emptiness with very few lights bobbing on it. Caramarin rarely came this way and the depth of darkness and sense of isolation alienated him. He settled down to the drive. Could have done with a little snort just to lift his mood, but best not to. Needed to cut down on it.
A long hour later, a beep from the back seat jerked him to full alertness.
"What the fuck was that?" Twisting round in his seat to look at Yulia.
"Nothing."
"Who are you texting, you stupid whore?"
"A mate."
"Ekaterina, get that fucking cell off of her."
Ekaterina turned round and held out her hand. Yulia looked like she wanted to throw it out the window, but it was closed. Reluctantly, she handed the phone to Ekaterina.
"Who's she called? D'you know?"
Ekaterina looked at the number.
"Sorry, I don't know her friends. I never saw her before the other day."
"Well, what's the text say."
"It’s private!" Yulia screamed. "Don't look."
The dim glow of the screen lit up Ekaterina's long, worried face.
"Oh, no. It says we're going down a free way to Romania and we're in a blue VW and there's only you with us and you've got us passports."
"You stupid fuckin' bitch. What the fuck did you do that for? I'm trying to get you away from all this."
Yulia burst into tears.
"He made me."
"Who made you?"
"Yevhen."
"Who the fuck is Yevhen?"
He felt like leaning over and slapping her hard.
"My dealer."
"Your pimp, you mean. And your dealer gave you gear to rat us out? Even though I'm doing you a favour?"
"I didn't ask you to, did I?" Yulia screamed over the music. "He said he'd sort me out with the big boys if I grassed you up to him."
"And you believe him?" Caramarin was incredulous at what the girl had done. "They'll just sell you on again."
"No they won't. He promised he'd take care of me. Fucking let me go, you cunt."
This time Caramarin leaned over and slapped her. Yulia started screaming and hitting the back of his head. Their car swerved over the white lines, the Polo's interior lit up. A blast of a horn. Caramarin hauled the VW back over just in time to avoid an oncoming Audi. The Audi's driver flipped him the finger.
"Stop it, both of you," screamed Ekaterina, pushing the two away. With the din and his rage, Caramarin thought his head would explode.
Caramarin pulled over. He opened the door and dragged Yulia out. He balled his fist. The girl leapt at him, trying to claw his face off. This time he punched her face, knocking her to the edge of a field. He stood over her, looming up in the country dark. She curled up into a ball, expecting a kicking.
In the headlights, her skirt had ridden up and he could see her white thighs and panties. She was so vulnerable. His rage ebbed. A truck sped past, washing them in light. The driver either did not see or ignored the scene.
"You stupid bitch. Go back to your friends and good luck to you."
He climbed into the car. Thumped the horn several times to relieve stress, swearing.
"Let's go," he said. He pulled away and drove. In the mirror, he saw Yulia give him the finger.
Getting used to that now.