The Traitor's Story Read Online Free PDF Page A

perhaps just shivering from the cold. He’d got a glimpse of her face—pretty, pale skin, high cheekbones—but it was obscured now by her hair, which was long and reddish-blonde, worn loose.
    She was hardly dressed for the weather, so maybe she was cold rather than upset. She was wearing Converse, which had made hardly any sound as she walked, skinny jeans, and a thin sweatshirt, but nothing else—no sweater, no coat or scarf.
    He wondered briefly if she was a junkie, but he doubted even a down-and-out would be walking around the city dressed so lightly. And from the little he’d seen of her, she looked too healthy, too well maintained. But whatever her story, and whether or not those were tears falling, it was none of his concern.
    The door opened again. He noticed the woman flinch at the sound, then become rigid and silent, almost as if she were holding her breath. Finn glanced around and saw a heavy-set man walking up the aisle. The guy had already spotted the woman and was smiling with what looked like a mixture of relief and playfulness. He’d seen Finn, too, but without paying him any attention.
    The guy reached the pew where the woman was sitting and stepped into it before saying a few words. She answered him without looking up, her words barely audible, and it was clear now that she had been crying because Finn could hear it in her voice. But they’d spoken in Russian, not Estonian—an even better reason for him to pay them no attention.
    A flash of anger crossed the guy’s face and he walked along the pew and pulled the woman up by her arm, not in a way that hurt her, but forcefully enough that there was no question of this game being over. He pulled her back along the pew and out into the aisle, and as a last desperate gambit she looked at Finn, her eyes pleading, and said a few words, tremulous, earnest.
    Finn didn’t understand, but the guy looked at her with a threat and tapped her on the nose with his finger. The guy still didn’t look at Finn, as if utterly confident that no one would choose to intervene in his business.
    He was right about that, and it was none of Finn’s concern that she was quite possibly being trafficked, that unimaginable things had probably been done to her, that more would follow, that a lifetime of misery was probably the best she could hope for. It was even less of a concern to him now than it might have been two weeks ago.
    It simply wasn’t his problem, but she had looked at him, and the surprise of seeing her face clearly, her eyes, had taken him aback. She was tall and slender, and it had been an easy mistake to make without seeing her face properly, but now he could be in no doubt that this was not a young woman but a girl, maybe only thirteen or fourteen, and she was pleading to be saved from this man.
    Finn stood up, and for the first time the guy acknowledged his presence, pointing at him, a warning, followed by a couple of words in Estonian that Finn didn’t get, even after eighteen months of hearing the language daily—it was just as well he hadn’t been hired for his linguistic skills.
    The girl also spoke again, imploring, even as the man’s grip tightened on her arm.
    Finn stepped out of the pew into the aisle, and looked at the guy as he said, “Do you speak English, because I’m about to call the police.”
    “You big man, huh?” He put his finger on Finn’s chest, prodding him as he said, “Sit down! And keep your nose ou t !”
    Finn hit him.
    The guy reeled back awkwardly, falling against the end of the pew across the aisle, his head hitting it with a dull crack. He’d released the girl, and she stepped back, toward the altar. Finn glanced at her, wanting reassurance that he’d just done the right thing, that he’d read this situation correctly. She was still looking at the guy in fear, though, as if dreading what his response would be.
    The guy himself laughed, struggling to get back on his feet, then cursed Finn in Estonian, spitting the