“She's from Ghana, sir,” he hisses. “What about the transport costs?”
“If they'll pay for her at all, they'll pay for the fare to get her home. Contact them.”
“Yes, sir.” But his mouth curls as he speaks.
*****
After Finchby and Yakovlevski leave, Bech still wears that ‘just sucked a lemon’ expression.
“Something to say, Bech?”
He scowls and looks down. “No, sir.”
“Good. Remember who's in charge here. And who's already made you a rich man.”
“Yes, sir.”
I turn to the girl where she cowers at my feet. “Tell her she can write a letter. Make sure her family know it’s her.” Luuk translates.
“Thank you, sir.” She launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my ankles, weeping incessantly. “Thank you.”
Bech lashes out with a foot. “Get back, you little b***h!”
Disentangling myself
