The Year of Dangerous Loving. John Davis Gordon

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      ‘He was wrong. You’re beautiful.’

      ‘I said, “Yes, of course!” So immediately I go to Moscow. Many days by train. So exciting. In Moscow they say to me: “We are the KGB, Mosfilm does not really want you, we want you to be a diplomat.”’

      ‘A diplomat? How old were you?’

      ‘Eighteen. Of course I was not going to be a diplomat, they were cheating me from the start, I was going to be one of their girls who sleeps with foreigners to get information. And for blackmail. But I did not know then. They said: “To be a diplomat you must first learn how to dress nicely, Western ways.” So they began to train me.’

      ‘What did they teach you?’

      She grinned. ‘Mostly how to make love. And I already knew that, most Russian girls learn that very young because there is nothing else to do. I was kept in a hostel like a student, but I was really a hostess for KGB officers. I was taught to cook and entertain, even to sing Western songs, how to dance, very sexy, but after the party – there were always many parties – after the party I had to go to bed with one of my trainers.’

      ‘How did you like that?’

      She shrugged. ‘I hated it, but they said it was part of my training. One of them I liked, the others I didn’t like.’

      ‘Were you paid a salary?’

      ‘Yes, I was working for the state. Then after only six months Gorbachev disbanded the KGB. Everybody was very anxious, and angry also. Then my trainers told me I was being sent to Istanbul to continue my studies. But, of course, when I got there I had to be a whore.’

      Oh, Hargreave was so glad to learn she had been tricked. ‘Istanbul? Did you protest?’

      ‘At first I cried and cried, and argued. But what can I do? They hit me. The other girls told me the KGB would kill me if I tried to run away. They said a girl called Natasha had been killed, as a lesson. And I had no passport, no money. No job in Russia. And we were kept in this big house with high walls, and there were guards.’

      Hargreave thought, Oh, you poor child. ‘And? Who were your customers?’

      ‘Rich Turks. Rich Arabs. And some Westerners, businessmen, English, Italian, Germans.’

      ‘How did you feel?’

      He felt a stab of anguish when she shrugged. ‘Afterwards I got used to it. It was a nice big house, nice rooms, nice bar, nice garden, good food. The madam saved your money for you, every month you got paid, you could send it home or buy things, or put it in the bank. So I thought, this is better than Yekaterinburg, better than the KGB hostel where I got fucked for nothing.’

      Hargreave didn’t want to hear that. ‘Were you allowed out?’

      ‘Only when the KGB trust you. But if you run away they will catch you. And how can you run away without a passport?’

      ‘Did you try?’

      ‘Not then. Natasha tried. They killed her.’

      Lord. You poor child. ‘So the KGB were still functioning despite being disbanded?’

      ‘No, the Mafia was controlling us. But many KGB are Mafia now.’

      Yes, Hargreave thought, that was common knowledge. Right now the Hong Kong police were trying to deal with the Russian Mafia who were using Hong Kong as a staging post for international smuggling. And here he was sitting in the Bella Mar Hotel with one of the Mafia’s girls: in principle he was compromising himself. But he did not care, he was happy for the first time in a long while, he was having a lovely day with this exotic girl, and she had nothing to do with smuggling – prostitution in Macao and smuggling in Hong Kong were far removed from each other, the one almost legal, the other not. Nonetheless he said:

      ‘Please don’t tell any of your friends who I am.’

      She smiled. ‘Of course not, darling. In my business you must be discreet. You would be surprised what important Hong Kong people come to us, but I won’t tell even you.’

      Even him? That felt like a compliment. He said, ‘Vladimir, the guy who came with the credit-card machine this morning, he wouldn’t know who I am, he wouldn’t read the papers, would he? He’s got my name now.’

      ‘No. And even if he knew he wouldn’t do anything, he only wants business.’

      ‘Is he a big noise in the Mafia, or is he just a pimp?’

      ‘A pimp. He says he was KGB, a big man, but he is nothing.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t worry, darling, I won’t let anybody hurt you, I like you.’

      He liked her too, he just didn’t like a pimp knowing his name. But he put it out of his mind. For heaven’s sake, the Triad societies controlled most of the girlie-bars and brothels in Hong Kong, did that mean every government official who went to a girlie-bar in Wanchai was compromising himself?

      ‘And how long were you in Istanbul?’ he said.

      ‘Almost three years. Then I was sent back to Moscow. That is when I tried to run away. One of my girlfriends was from Estonia, which had become independent from Russia, she said it was nice there, we can make a new life. But I had no passport, the Mafia had it. So I bought a gun, and we went on the train and I tried to hide when we crossed the border. But the Estonian police found me and sent me back to Moscow. I was very worried. I got a job in a café but the Mafia soon found me. They punished me because they said I had not finished my contract, and they kept me in an apartment and made me work.’

      ‘Your contract? Had you signed a contract?’

      ‘Yes. I signed many forms when they said I was training for diplomatic work.’

      ‘For how long was this contract?’

      ‘Three years. But now I am on a one-year contract.’

      ‘And how did they punish you?’

      ‘They beat me with their fists. But not too bad because I had to be in good condition to work. But they said next time they would kill me. So I did not try to run away again.’

      Oh you poor child. ‘So they made you work in a whorehouse?’

      ‘No, I was sent out to customers in the big hotels, like the Metropole. That is a famous Moscow hotel. But I always had a guard with me. Then, after two months, they sent me here, to Macao. As a “dancer”.’

      What a sad history. ‘How do you like it here?’

      ‘I like it. Here we are free, because we cannot escape to China, or Hong Kong. I like Macao.’

      ‘And the work?’ Please God she didn’t like the work.

      She shrugged. ‘I am used to it. It means nothing now, to me it is just like being a gymnast, or being a tennis player. What else can I do?’

      Oh dear. But it had meant something last night, and this morning, hadn’t it – all that hadn’t been faked, had it? ‘And how long will you stay?’

      ‘Until СКАЧАТЬ