Leaning back on the wall of the underpass, faced for some reason in white marble, Porphyry lazily lit a smoke, paying no attention to what was going on around him. Close by, a couple of swollen-looking men of indiscernible age were sitting on their haunches. One of them produced a bottle of Coca-Cola, into which the other fellow poured some varnish from a can. Some alcoholic tinctures contained in pharmaceutical vials were also added, and the concoction was shaken. They drank the “Haymarket Square Cocktail” straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth, gulping greedily and wincing.
Kate turned away, waiting.
A tall young man dressed in a leather jacket and leather pants approached Porphyry. On one hairy finger, adorned with a massive diamond ring, he twirled a Mercedes keychain, which made a soft whirring noise. A thick gold chain glinted on his furry chest. The cocky young man’s angular face broke out into a smile.
The men talked. The hairy dude gave Porphyry a friendly left hook on the chest. They summoned Kate with an imperceptible nod. Looking the woman over, the hairy man smirked.
“Let’s see the photo,” he said.
Kate didn’t let go of it. She didn’t want the greasy macho fingers touching Sonya’s little face.
Giving it just one glance, he said, “Nope, not her.”
“What about the neighbors?” Porphyry asked.
“I’d have heard something. A good specimen like that, I’d have taken her for myself. Could’ve made some good money too.”
“You can make some good money right now.”
“No. Never seen her.”
“Come off it, Alik. She disappeared in your territory. You know everything that goes on here.”
Alik just shrugged. “There’s no telling. Maybe the Nutcracker got her.” He gave Porphyry a clap on the shoulder and withdrew, whistling and twirling his keychain.
“Who’s that dude?”
“He’s the lord of the local beggars,” Porphyry replied sternly. “Very rich. If children go missing here, chances are they end up with Alik. He makes them into good workers. Although sometimes he maims them. Makes them sniff glue, gets them hooked on vodka and drugs. To keep them in line. But girls are usually put to different use.”
“He could have been lying,”
“There’s no reason for Alik to lie. He’s not afraid of you. And a doll like your sister he would have gladly taken for himself. He loves kids in his own way… You ready to go on?”
Kate was ready for everything. She only said, “Who is the Nutcracker?”
Porphyry screwed up his face. “Don’t take it seriously.”
“I want to know.”
“It’s total bullshit.”
“Please!”
“You really want to know? Fine. Supposedly there is an old man who lives in basements and kidnaps children to feed them to the rats. It’s just an urban legend.”
Kate was ready to believe any story she heard. “Why do they call him that? The Nutcracker fought rats, and in Tchaikovsky he was a good guy.”
“Tchaikovsky or Dostoevsky, it’s all the same. This is Haymarket Square, and it’s a whole different ballgame,” Porphyry said darkly.
“Where are those basements he lives in?”
“Not my line of work.”
“I am paying you to find my sister.”
“It’s not about money. It would be like looking for a ghost. You got time to waste?”
She had to desist.
Porphyry led her away from the square to where the pass-through courtyards began. They traversed these for a distance of several blocks. Kate tried to remember the way, but the dirty yellow walls seemed to run together into one turbid stream. She had lost her bearings and had only a vague sense of the direction of the square.
In one courtyard, Porphyry yanked open a shabby stairwell door and went up to the fourth floor. Kate was allowed to do as she pleased: she could wait outside or go in after him. She followed, close on his heels. At an unmarked apartment door, Porphyry made a call on his cell phone and growled something into it. The bolt clicked and the door opened to reveal an obese fellow in a bathrobe hanging shamelessly untied. The next moment a little face, caked in heavy makeup, poked out of the doorway. Her eyelashes were stuck together with blobs of mascara. The little mouth was swollen under a thick coating of lipstick. Dressed in a transparent nighty with wine stains all over it, she was no more than ten years old. She licked her lips and she asked in a hoarse voice: “Hey, handsome, could you buy me some ice cream? My throat’s all dry.”
The fat man kicked her away with his knee, sending her sprawling. Her nightie flew up, revealing her stomach, which was covered in yellow bruises. She got up, straightening the flimsy garment, and hobbled off, tunelessly singing a nursery rhyme: “Quiet, quiet little mice! The cat’s on the rooftop, she’ll leap in a trice.” The smell of chlorine and vomit wafted out from the apartment hallway.
“Porphyry!” the fat man exclaimed, smiling sweetly. “You haven’t been over here in ages, buddy! Want to try something fresh?
“I’m interested in used goods.”
“Anything you wish. What exactly are you looking for?”
“This one.” Porphyry waved a hand at Kate as though summoning a waiter.
She approached them but did not let go of the snapshot. The fat man squinted like a well-fed cat and made clucking noises with his tongue.
“What a honeybun! Wouldn’t mind snuggling her myself. Sorry, Porphyry, that one didn’t come my way. I wouldn’t have let her get away if she had. What a doll! May I offer you another one? Perhaps your lady friend would like something? Some of the boys I have are pretty good. I highly recommend them.” He snapped his fingers in affirmation of the high quality of his product.
Kate went downstairs without saying a word. A sudden downpour detained them in the stairwell. The rain came down in torrents, as it does in the tropics, pounding the asphalt with its coarse watery arrows and clattering on the rooftops. Porphyry lit up, exhaling the thick smoke.
“Doesn’t look good,” he said, flicking the ash underfoot.
Kate waited for him to elaborate.
“Liolik runs all the child prostitution rings. Eight out of ten will end up with him. Girls are always in demand. Sometimes he’ll take care of an order personally, if the client is after something in particular. But she’s not here. Even if you broke his neck, it wouldn’t get us closer to what we’re looking for.”
“Why do you take his word for it?”
“Liolik would sell your sister back to you. If he had her.”
“That’s good news.”
“You don’t get it. That asshole Alik could easily have been lying, like you said. Sonya could have ended up with him. But after a month, he would definitely have sold her on to Liolik; he has no need for used goods. That way, at least your sister would still be alive. But if Liolik doesn’t have her—”
“She’s alive,” Kate said, repeating the words of her spell. “We just have to keep looking.”
“Whatever you say.”
“What’s our plan?”
“Keep doing everything we can.”
The rain subsided sharply, tapering off to a fine spatter.
Haymarket Square turned out to be just behind the building. It was highly likely that Porphyry had been walking around in circles intentionally, so that she—an outsider—could not find her own way back. He was right to do so. Kate wanted to go back there and wring Liolik’s fat neck. And she had stopped trusting her partner.