70. Bronwyn

70

brONWYN

The stairs were metal, like a fire escape, and only big enough for one person at a time. They were incredibly steep, too, almost a ladder. There was a handrail but with my hands cuffed behind my back, I couldn’t use it. One slip and I was going straight to the bottom, however far down that was. It was terrifying: I tried to go slow so I could keep my balance, but Spartak kept getting impatient and pushing me from behind, making my heart jump into my mouth as I stumbled and teetered. My legs were already worn out from climbing up to the top of the nightclub and after a few minutes of the downward climb, my joints were screaming. We have to reach the first floor soon. But we didn’t. The stairs went on and on until I could barely stand.

We finally emerged through a steel door...but not into the nightclub. I stopped and stared.

It was a hallway, the walls were bare brick and the floor concrete. There were lights overhead, but they were all off: the power was out down here, too. And for some reason, no one was using the flashlights on their phones. The only light came from a few security guys who were running around with flashlights. In the beams I saw people wearing one-piece disposable coveralls, hairnets and masks. Through a doorway, I could see what looked like a massive chemistry lab, with glass flasks bubbling over blue flames. And through other doorways I could see people standing at long conveyor belts scooping tiny somethings into bags. For one crazy moment, I thought we’d come out in a candy factory.

Then one of the workers pushed a trolley past me loaded with bags and I saw what they were full of: pills. Spartak’s drug factory. It was hidden beneath his nightclub: that’s why no one had ever found it. But...wait, Spartak had been dealing drugs for years. There were dozens of workers here: not one of them, in all that time, had ever let slip that this place existed?

A security guard ran past me and his flashlight lit up another room, just for a second. I saw bunk beds. And then it sank in that all the workers I was seeing were women, and they all looked terrified. They’re trafficked! Probably from Russia. That’s why they don’t have phones. I looked around in horror: we were in a cellar, no windows. Jesus Christ, how long is it since some of these women saw sunlight?

While I’d been gazing around, Spartak had been busy. He was rounding up the security guards, making sure they had guns and leading them towards a door. He’d looked terrified upstairs, when he’d faced Radimir one-on-one. But now he was surrounded by soldiers, he was back to his arrogant self. “You all come with me,” he told them.

“What about her?” one of the guards asked, nodding at me.

Spartak grabbed my wrist and pulled me down the hall to a storeroom full of barrels of chemicals. He opened my handcuffs for a second, then recuffed me with the chain around a pipe. “You stay down here,” he told Liliya, giving her a flashlight. “Keep an eye on her.” He turned to the posse of guards he’d assembled. “Tell the door staff not to let anyone leave. He can’t get out of the club. We’ll hunt him down!” And they set off down the hall.

Fuck. I wrenched at the handcuffs, but they didn’t give at all. My heart was hammering. Radimir would be searching for me, but he’d never find me, not down here. Spartak and his men would find him and then…

I pulled at the handcuffs again. “Come on,” I begged, my voice tight with panic. “ Please!”