Operation: A Roving Commission: A Scarring Time

[x-gambit.livejournal.com]

Marie-Ange and Nico visit a woman who used to work for Bulat.



It was a small hospital, more like a clinic, in the hills outside of Constanta. If they had to guess, it would have once been a convent before being remodeled and expanded, and the occasional religious carving or inset in the original brickwork confirmed it for them. Anca Petran, the patient, had been there almost three weeks according to the report. Listed as a sex worker in a club connected with Cristu Bulat, she had been found savagely beaten outside of her apartment. Curiously, the street officer's report said clearly that she wished to give a statement about the attack, but the duty officer had never followed up with her. Obviously, Bulat had invested some money into local law enforcement.

They sat for a time before a day nurse finally motioned them to follow. "Miss Anca is still very weak, Ms Morney. I can only give you fifteen minutes for now." Their cover was as part of an international woman's rights advocacy group, which had an advantage for a spy in which the role all but demanded that they be nosy and ask too many personal questions. They were finally ushered through a door into a small, white room, where a woman lay.

Half of her head was still swathed in bandages, and the other half bore a dozen slash marks that terminated under the wraps, still puffy and red against the stitching. She had sparse stubble on parts of her scalp that the hair had obviously been ripped from, and ugly burn marks twisted her ear. To look past the damage to the high cheekbones and oval shape, Anca Petran had clearly been beautiful once. Now, her face would be marked and shaped by her scars permanently.

Nico had been keeping her healing spell on reserve for a moment where it would really count. Where she would need, for example, to regrow half of a teammate that had just gotten blown to bits. For a moment though, she felt the urge to help the woman on the bed. She didn't act upon it though, as she knew this wasn't the time to get emotional.

Still, it was a pretty disheartening sight. As they settled next to the woman, Nico let Marie-Ange do the honors. While she had a good idea of what to do (and how to do it) she wanted to learn all the could, simple as it seemed.

"Ms. Petran?" Marie-Ange didn't wait for an answer, she just continued on as though she'd gotten one. "I realize you have quite probably told your story more times than you ever imagined, but once more would help us a great deal to learn who did this to you. We have somewhat different resources than your local police." Implying the weight of a government, it didn't matter which one she thought it was - The United States, The European Union, it did not matter much where the injured woman thought she came from.

The woman's good eye tracked her, and shook her head. "Are you Interpol? They would not return the hospital's calls." Obviously, Petran had not been cowed by the beating, although if the local police had already washed their hands of the case, there was little that anyone else could do.

"Not quite, but close enough." Marie-Ange answered. "However, I can make sure that your report does get to someone who works for Interpol, and perhaps the United States FBI as well." She produced a pad of paper and pen from her handbag. "If you prefer, I will not record anything, but it would help to make sure I have of all the facts."

"No, you can record whatever you wish." She said slowly, as if trying to clear some of the effects of the painkillers she was still on.

At that moment Nico took out the recorder she had brought along so that the woman in the bed could see it. "Hopefully this won't take too long", said reassuringly as she prepared to record the conversation. "Whenever you are ready, then", added as she looked at Marie-Ange for a moment.

"You worked for Mister Bulat, yes? What can you tell us about him?" Marie-Ange asked. "Who he is, whatever history you know, even little things, they can help put a puzzle together more, so even if you think it is not significant, it still could be." She knew what kind of man Bulat had to be, to sell people as he did, but she wanted to hear in this woman's words. Even little impressions could go a long way.

"Bulat is a pig. He is very good at telling you what you want to hear, right up until he takes everything from you." She gave a pained look. "You must think me to be very stupid to believe him. I started at his club willingly. The money was very good, and the clients were all rich men. After I had been there for a few months - long enough to make sure that leaving wasn't an option - he used to bring me girls. Anca, he would say, this is Tatiana, our new employee. They'd be frightened or crying, and they'd beg me to help them call the police or their parents and let them go home. I wouldn't, because I was afraid."

Marie-Ange shook her head. "No, not stupid. You make the decisions you must, and men like that, they know what to say to make you trust them." She said, with a surprisingly gentle tone. "Fear, it can cripple you, no? And you stay because it is all you can do to get to the next day. The girls, they were not all locals, yes?"

"That is to say, it became painfully obvious not all the girls were there on their own will, correct?" Nico spoke carefully, not wanting to be seen as leading her on; they needed to have her say all the words though. "Had you been threatened by then?"

"Bulat likes to be obeyed. One of the girls disappeared when someone said they saw her talking to police. He said she'd gone home, but-" She shrugged. "He made sure to leave a paper open the next week about the body of an unidentified woman found in Riga. Her hands and feet had been cut off, and she'd been drowned. No one talked to the girls that he brought in after that."

Nico made a small discomfort-induced hum, and for a moment the horrible, horrible attire Marie-Ange had literally forced on her stopped being on top of things that were making her uneasy at the moment. This guy was breaking every single one of the conditions to be considered a human being proper. "Would you say that some of the girls looked foreign, like Americans, or tourists in general? Any direct complaint about kidnapping? We need as many details as possible."

"Foreign yes, but not American, I think." Anca shook her head. "They were children, the last pair. Not even fifteen. At first, we were afraid that Bulat had started to serve more... secretive clients. There is a market for that sort of thing in Russia. But the twins, he left orders that they were not to be touched. The one could make music out of thin air. The other, pretty coloured lights dance in her hands. Three days later, they were gone."

Mutants. Of course. Marie-Ange grimaced and made some notes on her notepad. "There were more like that, at times, were there not? Bulat, he is not just trading in women to be sold like toys, he is selling mutants, people who can do things like those twins?" It wasn't a question exactly, and Marie-Ange's demeanor had gone very still and flat very quickly.

Nico gave a sideways glance at Marie-Ange, trying to assess the situation; as it was, they had found what they wanted, but they couldn't just stand up and leave. They were listening to the woman's complaints after all. Not to mention her partner in interview -you couldn't really call it a crime- was apparently losing her cool a little. Clearing her throat in an obvious attempt to let Marie-Ange know she was getting perhaps a little too heated up, Nico leaned a bit.

"You will understand, Miss Anca, the more information we have, and the more sides we can attack this matter, the better. So if you could spare no detail, we would be very thankful."

"We had heard rumours of others. That is when I decided to speak up. These were children. For all the good it did them. Or me." She said, bitterly. "The police have no interest in Bulat. He pays the right people - the ones that are in charge over the ones who would do something. I thought, if I forced him to make it public, they couldn't ignore it. Obviously, I was not as smart as I thought, no?"

"You did more than most would have, and you paid a rather unfair price for it." Marie-Ange said. "This information will help. Even if your police do nothing, I can promise you that it will not be ignored." She tore off a piece of the notepad and wrote down a name and phone number. "In half an hour, call this number, the person who answers will help you get somewhere safe." She gestured at Nico. "Can you give Ms. Petran a secure phone, please?"

She took the phone, turning it over and looking at it with her good eye. “Be careful. Bulat is an animal, but he is smart. If he thinks that you might endanger his business, he won’t hesitate to make both of you to look like me once he’s done.”

She stowed the phone. “Or worse.”