The Eyewitness (36 page)

Solomon opened the door to his building and held it open as Otto came in, followed by Sasha. He looked up and down the street but there was still no sign of the Toyota. The last time he'd seen Dragan had been on the road to Tuzla. They'd stopped and checked that nobody was hurt, and agreed to drive back to Sarajevo separately. Sasha had probably been right: there was little chance of anyone coming after them, they were more easily spotted if they in convoy.

Solomon pressed for the lift and rode up in it with Otto. It barely held two people so Sasha took the stairs. He was standing by the door to Solomon's flat when the lift doors opened. Solomon let them in and showed Otto to the bedroom.

He went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. The intercom buzzed while he was pouring it into mugs. He shouted at Sasha to get the door. It was Dragan. Sasha buzzed him in and a few minutes later he was in the flat with Rikki and the rest of the Croats, raiding Solomon's fridge and handing out bottles of Heineken, apologising for Solomon's taste in beer. Tomislav had the black holdall, which he handed to Sasha. Sasha put it behind an armchair.

Dragan collapsed on to one of the sofas and raised his bottle in salute. There was a chorus of “Zivjeli!”

Solomon went through to the bedroom with a mug of coffee for Nicole. She was lying on his bed, her tousled hair across the pillow. She was wearing a short blue nightgown that had ridden up her thighs. There were old bruises all over her skin in various shades of green and blue, and livid red scratch marks across her legs and arms.

Solomon sat on the edge of the bed and put the mug on the bedside table. Nicole's eyes flickered open. She looked at Solomon, a slight frown on her face, then gazed around the room.

“Where am I?” she asked, in Serbo-Croatian.

“Sarajevo,” he said.

“You're safe now.”

Her frown deepened.

“Who are you?” she asked, in English this time.

“What am I doing here?”

From the next room came the sound of raucous laughter.

Nicole glanced at the bedroom door.

“It's okay,” said Solomon.

“They're friends .. . Do you remember me?” he asked.

Nicole tried to sit up but the effort was too much for her and she flopped back, exhausted. The nightdress had ridden even further up but she didn't seem aware of her nakedness. Solomon pushed himself up off the bed, limped over to his wardrobe and took out a denim shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.

“What happened to your leg?” she asked.

“It's a long story,” he said. He handed her the shirt and shorts.

“Put these on,” he said.

“You can have a shower when you're ready,” He turned his back.

“It's been a long time since a man did that,” she said.

“Did what?”

“Tried to avoid seeing me naked.”

Solomon turned round. She was sitting on the bed, clasping her knees to her chest.

“That's over now,” he said.

“Have you bought me?” she asked.

“Is that it? Do I work for you now?”

Solomon sat down again.

“Nobody owns you, Nicole. Not any more.”

She stiffened at the mention of her name.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Jack,” he said.

“I saw you in London, remember?”

“London?” she repeated. She frowned as if it was the first time she'd heard the word.

“It doesn't matter,” he said.

“We can talk later. Are you hungry?”

She shook her head.

Solomon gave her the coffee.

“Try to drink some of this,” he said.

She took it from him and sipped. There was more laughter from outside and she flinched. Solomon reassured her again that they were friends and there was nothing to worry about.

“You came to St. John's Wood, didn't you?” she asked.

“That's right.”

“And after that they sent me back to Bosnia.” She shuddered.

“To that place.” Her hands trembled and coffee slopped on to the duvet.

Solomon took the mug from her and put it on the bedside table.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“I was happy in London,” she said quietly.

“I had a nice place to live. The men were kind to me.” He saw tears in her eyes.

“They brought me presents.” She sniffed.

“Do you know what they did to me in that place?” She showed him her arms. They were covered in welts and bruises, some fresh, some old.

“Nicole, I'm sorry.”

She wiped her eyes.

“You ruined my life.”

“I didn't,” said Solomon.

“You ruined the life I had,” said Nicole.

“I had a job, decent customers. I could have stayed in London and made a lot of money. Now I've lost everything. Everything.”

She began to cry and Solomon put his arm round her.

“I didn't know this would happen,” he said.

“I just wanted to know who killed your family. That's all.”

Her body was racked with sobs and she pushed him away.

“Nicole, I'm sorry,” said Solomon.

“You don't get it, do you?” she sobbed.

“You don't understand.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at him, her cheeks wet.

“It was me,” she sobbed.

“I killed them.” She threw herself down and buried her face in the pillow.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. It was Sasha.

“Rikki's going to run the guys to the airport. You should say goodbye.”

Solomon nodded. He gave Nicole's shoulder a squeeze and followed Sasha out of the room.

Dragan was hugging Otto and patting him on the back. Solomon shook hands with the four men, and thanked each one, although he could barely concentrate on what he was saying. All he could think of was Nicole, and what she'd said. How could she have killed her family? It didn't make sense.

Dragan tossed Rikki the Toyota keys.

“Try to get it out of second gear or the plane'll have gone by the time you get there,” he joked.

Rikki and the Croats left. Dragan grabbed another Heineken and lay on the sofa, his feet crossed at the ankles.

“How's the girl?” he asked.

“Shaken up,” said Solomon.

“What are you going to do with her now?” asked Sasha.

“Get her to talk to investigators at the War Crimes Tribunal,” said Solomon, 'and tell them what she saw."

“What did she see?” asked Dragan.

“I don't know yet,” said Solomon.

He went back to the bedroom and closed the door. Nicole was lying in the same position as he'd left her. Solomon limped over to sit beside her.

“Nicole?”

“Go away.”

“We have to talk,” he said.

“I don't want to talk.”

“You said you killed your family. That can't be true. You can't blame yourself for what happened. It wasn't your fault.”

“It was my fault.”

“You're just saying that because you were spared, that's all. It's called survivor's guilt. You're blaming yourself. I know all about it, Nicole.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.” She pushed herself up into a sitting position, her back against the headboard.

“I know you mustn't blame yourself.”

“I told them where the drugs were.” She put up her hands to cover her face.

“And when they came for them they took away my family.”

“What are you talking about?” Nicole didn't reply.

“Nicole, what drugs?”

“My father, he let some people store boxes on our farm. In one of the barns. Boxes wrapped in black plastic. He thought I didn't know but I saw them being brought in one night. They were hidden under the floor. There was a trapdoor under sacks of potatoes.”

“And it was drugs?”

“Heroin. I didn't know that, not then. I didn't know what it was, other than that it was a secret.”

“And who did you tell?”

Nicole wiped her face.

“I had a boyfriend.”

“Emir?”

Nicole laughed harshly.

“Emir wasn't my boyfriend. He's just a boy. A lovesick boy.” She sighed.

“His name was Mirsad, and he worked on one of the farms near ours. He was older than me, he'd been to Pristina loads of times. He said we could run away there and start a new life. But we needed money.”

“So you told him about the drugs?”

“I showed him the secret place. It was Mirsad who said it was heroin. He said we could sell some, just a bit, and we'd have enough money to buy a restaurant. I was going to cook and he'd be the manager. I thought if we took just a little no one would know.”

She sniffed and wiped away tears.

“Three days later, the men came. I'd been to see Mirsad. He kept telling me not to go home but it was getting late. When I got back they were making everyone get into the truck.”

“Who were they?”

Nicole shrugged.

“I don't know. They were wearing masks. And they had guns like the soldiers carry. Big guns.”

“Were they soldiers?”

“I don't know. They weren't wearing uniforms.”

“Mirsad must have told them is that what you think?”

“No one else knew where the drugs were hidden. He betrayed me. He used me. And because of that my family died. So it was my fault.”

Solomon didn't know what to say. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow again.

Solomon looked down at her helplessly. He patted her, lost for words, then stood up and went back to the sitting room. Sasha and Dragan looked up as he closed the bedroom door behind him. Dragan swung his feet off the sofa and sat looking expectantly at Solomon.

“Well?” he said.

“She didn't see the men who took her family away.”

“After all this?” said Sasha.

“After all this she didn't see them?”

“She saw them. But they were wearing masks. She didn't see their faces.”

Dragan shook his head.

“Why the hell didn't she say that in the first place? She could have gone to the police after her family were taken.”

Solomon went over to the sofa and sat down next to him.

“It's a long story,” he said, reaching for a beer.

“We've got time,” said Sasha.

“It's about drugs,” said Solomon. He repeated what Nicole had told him.

“So it was nothing to do with ethnic cleansing?” said Sasha.

“Nothing to do with them being Muslims?”

“She told her boyfriend where the drugs were stored. Three days later the family were put into the back of the truck and driven away. She saw men in masks take away the drugs. Now she blames herself.”

“With good reason,” said Sasha.

“She didn't know what would happen,” said Solomon.

“She had some romantic idea that she could run away with her boyfriend on the proceeds of a couple of kilos of heroin.”

Sasha took out his cigars. Dragan reached for his matches.

The bedroom door opened. Nicole came into the sitting room, her face still wet from crying.

Solomon introduced Sasha and Dragan.

“They helped get you out of Arizona,” he said.

“Thank you. I want to go,” she said.

“I can't stay here. I want to go.”

“Go where?” asked Solomon.

“Anywhere. London, maybe. I want to go and work for the agency again.”

Dragan lit a match with his thumbnail and offered the light to Sasha, who held it to his cigar.

Nicole froze.

“You!” she said.

Sasha and Dragan looked at her, bewildered.

“It was you!” she hissed.

“You killed my family!”

Sasha groped for his gun, but Dragan moved quickly, bending down and pulling his semi-automatic out of its ankle holster. He had it in his hand before Sasha had pulled out his revolver. He swung it towards Sasha and fired. The bullet caught him in the chest and he staggered back. He looked at Dragan with a puzzled frown, then slumped to the floor, blood blossoming across his shirt-front. Dragan got to his feet and stood looking down at Sasha. He kicked him in the side. Sasha's leg twitched once, then went still.

Solomon stared at the policeman in horror.

“It was Sasha, all the time?” he said.

“He killed them?”

Dragan said nothing. He prodded Sasha, looking for any sign of life.

Nicole was standing by the bedroom door, her hands to her face.

“It's okay,” said Solomon.

“He can't hurt you now.”

“Not him,” she said, and pointed an accusing finger at Dragan.

“Him.”

“What?” said Solomon.

“Him. I saw him. At the farm.”

Dragan turned to look at Nicole.

“She's hysterical,” he said.

“You were there,” she said.

“You were in charge.”

“You said they wore masks,” said Dragan.

“The man in charge lit matches like you did. With his nail.”

“It's an easy trick,” said Dragan.

“No, it isn't,” said Solomon quietly.

“You know it isn't.”

“Jack, come on. You saw Sasha going for his gun.”

“Because he knew it wasn't him who had killed her family. So if it wasn't him, she was accusing you.”

Nicole slid down the wall and sat with her arms clasped around her legs.

Dragan's eyes hardened. He turned slowly and levelled the gun at Solomon.

“Why?” asked Solomon.

“Why?” repeated Dragan.

“Why do you think?”

“Money.”

“Not just money, a lot of money. More money than I can earn in ten years as a policeman. In a hundred years.”

“You killed twenty-six people!” shouted Solomon.

“Men, women and children.”

“No,” hissed Dragan.

“I didn't kill anyone.”

“You herded them into the back of a truck.” He pointed at Nicole, who was huddled by the bedroom door.

“She saw you.”

“That's all I did,” said Dragan.

“We just wanted them out of the way while we got the drugs. I didn't say they were to be killed.”

“They were Serbs? The guys you were working with?”

“Her boyfriend had a friend who was a Serb. He told one of his friends who had a friend who was one of my informers. I put together the crew, men I knew from my days in the federal police.”

“Other cops?”

Dragan shrugged.

“Some were cops. A couple of soldiers. Guys I knew who could be trusted. Some were Serbs, but this wasn't about race. It was about money. They weren't supposed to kill them.”