CHAPTER I: NEW ARRIVALS
Despair was a familiar companion to Katya Markova. Life in Russia was a trap, even in
Moscow. The television was full of shows from the West, about people who had beautiful
lives and glittering careers. In Russia it was impossible. She longed to go to London or
San Francisco and start a proper life there. Some girls who had been at school with her
had done it--she heard that they found jobs in bars, which gave them enough money to live.
But Katya lacked the courage to take such a bold step. What if she could not find a job?
She spoke good English, but was that enough? She would be competing with the locals for
jobs, and they would all speak better English than she did. And if she got a bar job, what
then? Where could she go after that? Working in a bar was not an appealing idea of a
long-term career, and it would not earn her enough money to put herself through college.
It seemed there was no way out of Russia for her.
Scanning the jobs section of a Russian newspaper one day, her heart seemed to skip a beat
as her eyes picked something out.
Wanted: trainee Russian language secretaries for company operating mainly in Gulf states.
Applicant must be native speaker of Russian, with English or Arabic as a second language.
Applicant must be willing to make a career with the company and relocate to the Gulf
region, initially Qatar. Applicant must be disposed to travel for business.
The words `make a career` seemed to shine out from the page. Salvation had opened its
gates before her. Scarcely able to breathe, Katya phoned the number in the advert.
Within days she had an interview with an executive from the company, Miss Rafiq, a tall
black woman with fierce eyes. They spoke English, which was no problem for Katya. The
Russian girl`s obvious ability in that language seemed to satisfy the interviewer as to
her fitness for the job. Most of her questions revolved around her willingness to move
permanently to a distant part of the world and to stay with her employer in the long term.
Katya assured her that leaving Russia for a better life had been her cherished dream for a
long time.
* * * *
Helene Larocque`s eyes scanned the hotel lobby as she stepped into it. Heads turned to
look at her, women jealous and men admiring. How she loved that, the power she had over
them. A self-satisfied smile took up its proper place on her narrow but full-lipped mouth
and she strode pridefully across the marble tiles, her heels clicking loudly with every
step, while her meek younger sister Angelique self-effacingly followed after her like a
dog at the heel of its mistress.
Two boys, Germans she remembered, were loitering by the entrance. They had introduced
themselves before, while their eyes caressed her chest and waist, but she did not remember
their names. In fact she had no liking for them at all--their ogling was quite
offensive--but she would never have admitted that. Helene had got into the habit of
showing herself off as though she was the Whore of Babylon, even though in truth she was
still virginal and had no immediate plans to change that. Even though she didn`t intend to
let any man or boy touch her in the foreseeable future, the boost to her ego she got from
knowing that men`s eyes clawed at her form, mentally undressing her, was far more
important than the skin-crawling sensation which it undeniable gave her at the same time.
"Helene!` said one of the boys in English with a horrid guttural accent. `Can I see
you tonight?`
Helene giggled, tossing her head slightly to shake the mane of her bright golden hair,
and made big eyes at him. Her hand slid down her side, over her voluptuous hip. `I don`t
know,` she replied in the same language. `I don`t make plans that far ahead. I`m
spontaneous! But who knows? Perhaps if I`m in the good mood, I`ll let you see all of me.`
She winked and moved her hand up her thigh, pulling up her short white skirt a few
centimetres to reveal more pale flesh and just a glimpse of the side of her panties. Then
she strode out into the hot sunshine before the Germans could reply.
"Helene, you are disgusting!` said her sister, following her out. As usual, neither
boy had even glanced at her in the presence of her glowing sister.
"You`re just jealous, Angelique,` said Helene rather tartly. Angelique was stung all
the more because she knew it was true. `Come on, let`s go to the bazaar!` She grabbed
Angelique by the hand and set off at a fast pace, doing her special walk that made her
breasts bounce and jiggle lasciviously, revelling in the looks of disapproval and lust
that she drew from the local Arabs in the street.
"Ladies!` said a voice from a doorway. A black woman stood there, and draped over
one of her hands were necklaces of gold and silver, resplendent with jewels. `Such
beauties!` she said. `Like two suns! You deserve the richest jewels!
See--gold--silver--sapphire for your necks! Step in my shop--you will not find a better
price!` She backed into the shadowed doorway, and Helene followed her, eyes glittering
with avarice. Angelique went after her, happy that someone had noticed her existence, her
beauty even, in her sister`s presence--even if it was a woman, and she just wanted to make
money out of them.
The door shut behind them and their screams of shock and terror were muffled as thick
wads of cloth were clamped over their mouths.
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