But now, Wednesday realised that she could not do it alone and she could not afford to face the Colonel; she did not have the strength to do it alone. She would call the only person she had in the world to help—Father Finn—and ask for help from Mann and Becky. But she would try one last thing before she did that.

She dressed quietly and slipped out of the hotel room. She walked down Fields Avenue to the police station and asked to see the officer in charge. Three police officers watched her walk in. They stood and watched as she gave an account of Maya’s disappearance to the sergeant and what she knew about her whereabouts now. The sergeant wrote down what she said.

‘Okay Wait here.’ He left Wednesday standing at the counter. The three policemen stared at her. One of them tried a conversation.

‘What do you do back home in Davao?’

‘I take in washing.’

‘Your little girl goes to school?’

‘Yes, every day. She is very clever.’

‘You are a good mother to come and find her. You have a husband?’ Maya shook her head. ‘You should—pretty girl like you.’

The door of the police station opened. The sergeant reappeared from his office. Wednesday turned. The Colonel was standing behind her.

‘You bastard!’ she screamed. ‘You pig!’

‘Call me what you like,’ said the sergeant. ‘You are nothing but a whore, and you insult the man who pays our wages. Get out of here. We will not help filth like you who can’t even look after their own children.’

47

‘Enough! It’s time. Go and fetch her…’

Brandon left.

‘No one ever escapes me, Wednesday, you should know that.’

The Colonel lifted Wednesday’s head so she could look at him. Her face was puffed up like a football. One eye was completely closed, burnt by a cigarette in the eyeball. The hair had been torn from her head and left her scalp bleeding and raw. The door opened and Brandon walked in, pulling Maya by the arm.

The little girl stood for a moment, startled by the terrible thing she saw before her—unable to recognise her mother. The Colonel lifted Wednesday’s chin and it took Maya a few seconds to realise it was her mother. Then she cried out and desperately tried to reach for her.

Wednesday looked at Maya and tried to speak but she could not; her mouth was swollen, her teeth broken from the electric shock torture. Brandon hadn’t put the piece of plastic in her mouth to stop that happening. But then, he didn’t have any reason to worry if her teeth were broken and he ruined her looks. She was never going to be for sale again.

She tried to smile at the child.

Poor Maya, to see her mother like this. Poor Maya

, she thought. She could see that the child’s eyes were full of fear as she whimpered.

Mama, Mama.

The Colonel picked Maya up by one arm and held her aloft like a rag doll, then he pretended to drop her before catching her around the waist and holding her tightly to him. She screamed and cried out for Wednesday.

‘You want your daughter back? Here she is.’

‘Mama. Mama.’

The Colonel laughed and nodded in the direction of Brandon, who went to stand behind Wednesday’s chair. Wednesday looked at her daughter and tried to speak, but no words came—blood spluttered from her mouth and ran in a trickle. But she had the strength of the dying and the determination and focus of a mother knowing that she is the only chance to save her child. She thrashed and bellowed—hoarse and strange her voice came out, distorted in her anguish and desperation. She shook violently.

The Colonel tutted.

‘What can you offer me, Wednesday? You had your day. I took your cherry and I took your daughter’s—one whore begets another.’ He licked Maya’s face and laughed as the child sobbed in small breaths.

‘Mama…Mama.’

The Colonel walked to the far wall.

‘But, you came alone, as I demanded, so I will give you one last chance to win your daughter back…it’s only fair…If you can get here and kiss my feet, you can have her. If you don’t make it—then she’s mine.’ He ordered Brandon to cut Wednesday’s bonds and free her from the chair. ‘Come and get her, Wednesday.’

Wednesday lunged forwards. Brandon stuck his foot out and tripped her and she hit the floor. He placed a foot on her back. He took his knife and sliced the long blade through the back of her right thigh, just above the knee. The hamstring snapped and curled. Maya screamed and turned away as Wednesday let out a muffled scream and clutched the injured leg as she dragged herself onwards towards Maya. She tried to stand on her left leg but Brandon kicked it from beneath her and she crashed to the floor again. He stepped forward and sliced through the other hamstring. She let out a tormented cry of anguish but still she pulled herself along with her hands like some freakish animal, bald, bloodied and crippled, she pulled her weight on her hands and elbows. She stopped within reach of the Colonel’s feet and looked up at him. Maya held out her hands to her mother.

‘Mama, Mama

’

Wednesday extended a hand to touch his feet. Brandon dragged her head backwards.

The Colonel stared down at her. ‘Look at me, Wednesday. Look into the eyes of your God.’ He kissed Maya on the mouth. ‘And take a last look at your daughter and know that I will have her, body and soul, until she is no more use to me, then I will kill her.’

Wednesday let out a cry of anguish but no sound came out; her vocal cords were cut as Brandon slit her throat.

48

Shrimp turned to look over at David White who was slumped against the wall behind, doubled over in pain, White glanced up and raised a hand as if to say that he was all right, just winded. Shrimp studied him for a few seconds to reassure himself that was the case before he looked back at his two assailants. They had landed a few metres apart. One was now doing his best to stand and crawl back towards the Centrepoint exit, dragging his right leg where Shrimp had delivered a sweeping kick that had smashed his ankle bones. Blood ran freely from a ragged wound on the side of his shaven skull where there was still a clear outline of Shrimp’s boot. The other man lay still with his eyes shut, his chest barely rising and falling.

Shrimp made a move towards White and helped him stand upright. He looked shaken but not hurt, thought Shrimp. Shrimp looked down at himself and instinctively brushed the debris from his new jeans. He looked both ways of the tunnel. There were footsteps coming from the Centrepoint end but they were small strides, slow pace—not threatening. He looked to the other end of the gloomy tunnel that stank of wee. The three small groups of rough sleepers blinked back in the gloom.

Shrimp steered White towards Tottenham Court road tube. A drunk stood swaying as they passed

‘Hey you…’ He waved his bottle in Shrimp’s direction. ‘You put up one hell of a fight, so you did…’ he grinned.

Shrimp looked back over his shoulder to make sure there would be no more fighting needed that day. One of his assailants had already made it out of sight; the other was just trying to stand. ‘Fucking good fight, I said.’ The drunk’s words followed them down the corridor as the rough sleepers mumbled their agreement and turned to watch them go.

49

Mann and Becky sat in the old four-seater Cessna 172 and watched Puerto Galera come into view. In the distance they saw a faded purple banner draped lopsided across the roof of the small airport terminal. Becky had been very quiet all through the journey, and when Mann checked on her she looked ashen.