Julian slung the duffel over his shoulder. He thought about pissing on Annabel's note, but settled for writing 'fuck off' across it and leaving it under a rock.

The headset they'd stolen had been Julian's last item of any value, and only connection to the world. Hopefully Gordon would turn the thing on and bring down the wrath of Blackmountain on those thieving bastards.

The thought of them suffering for their sins gave Julian a weak satisfaction. Then he paused. If those three were picked up with the headset, how long until they told Blackmountain where they got it? The mercenaries could be on their way already.

Julian dashed out of camp for the nearest field. Without his map, he needed to keep near the road to find his way to Bratislava. He'd seen movies where the hero navigated by the position of the sun, but 'wilderness survival' wasn't exactly his strong suit.

Julian settled on walking the fields just out of sight of the road, then cutting back in periodically to make sure he hadn't strayed. It mostly worked.

In the end he made it to the outskirts of the city in a little over two hours without seeing another human. He stopped behind a warehouse to catch his breath and plan his next move.

It was another hour until his scheduled meetup time at the memorial. Relying on his (probably dead) mother to save him was a desperate gambit, but the alternative was going to the police. Privatized law enforcement was the norm around here, and most cities contracted with Blackmountain. Julian wasn't sure what Bratislava's arrangement was, but the odds were bad.

His stomach grumbled from the missed breakfast, and his mouth tasted of cheap stale booze. Nothing to do about that. Looking for a meal was way too big a risk. At least his campfire 'friends' had let him eat dinner before rolling him; he could make it to noon. After that... maybe his new captors would have better food than Antoine.

The next step was figuring out how to get to the memorial. He'd picked it for being outside the city center, but his memory of the location was fuzzy. Julian scanned the horizon, hoping for a hint.

Tents dotted a nearby hill. It looked like a smallish enclave, maybe a couple hundred people. Julian had done volunteer work at a similar homeless camp outside Colchester. He might be able to get help there without calling attention to himself.

Julian hurried over to the hill. A central 'avenue' cut through the middle of the tents, defined mainly by having a thinner layer of refuse than the surrounding land. Residents chatted with each other from broken down-furniture. A few scattered fires supplied the aroma of burning meat and trash.

Back in his volunteer days he was constantly bombarded with yells of 'hey rich boy,' followed by entreaties for help. No one called out to him today as he shuffled down the avenue.

Julian looked down at his oversized muddy clothes, frayed from diving to the ground every time he heard a farm drone. Add in a few days stubble, bruises from fighting, and some rank BO... He fit in here more than he cared to admit.

He walked until he spotted a young woman sitting alone on a dilapidated recliner, knitting some socks. No one else was out on this part of the street.

"Hello," Julian tried for a working class accent, "I'm a friend of Annabel, she said someone here might be able to help me."

"You know Annabel?" The woman put down her knitting. "And she offered to help you?" She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Not exactly. Her words were more like: 'fuck off pasty, if you need help you can try the camp.'"

The woman smiled. "So you do know Annabel. Can't say folks around here have a lot of help to give, what is it that you're needing Mr...?"

"Carson," Julian filled in. "I have an aunt in town. Has a small pension. She offered to give me a little help, but doesn't want me coming around her place. Says it would 'disturb the neighbors.'" Julian gave a flat smile.

"I'm supposed to meet her at the soviet memorial," he continued, "but I don't know how to get to it. I was hoping to find a guide."

"Well Carson, as you can see, I've got a pretty full schedule at the moment." She held the half-finished sock up in front of her chunky sweater. "What're you offering?"

"Would you take eternal gratitude?" Her expression was unamused. "No, I didn't think so. It's not going to be a lot, but I can cut you in. Ten percent."

The woman fidgeted with her knitting needles, considering. "When are you supposed to meet her?"

"Noon."

"Then we need to get going. You better not be wasting my time Carson."

"Thank you!" Julian enthused, with a genuine smile on his face. "What should I call you?"

"My name's Nadeja. Hold on a minute, I need to ask Tomas to keep an eye on my stuff." She disappeared into a neighboring tent, returning promptly.

"Oh, one more thing Nadeja." Time for a little finesse work. "I uh... had a bit of a run-in with the law last time I was in town. Shoplifting. Can we take a back way?"

Nadeja's eyes narrowed. "Let me see what's in your bag."

"Huh? Why?" Julian's pulse quickened. He needed this help.

"Well, 'Carson', maybe you are just a hard-on-his luck guy hitting up his auntie for some quick cash. Or maybe you're running yaba and looking to make me an accessory. Open the bag or the deal's off."

"If I had a bag full of drugs I'd hope I could afford better help," Julian grumbled, unzipping the bag. "No offense."

Nadeja peered in on the lonely cell phone and notepad. "This is all your stuff?" Julian heard pity in her voice. "Sorry to be suspicious; we get all kinds out here.

"Here," Nadeja reached into her own bag and pulled out a tired looking apple.

Julian tried to wave her off. "C'mon. I can hit the soup kitchen on the way back, you need to eat."

Reluctantly he took the fruit, feeling bad about accepting a gift from someone who had so much less than him. Then he thought more about his predicament and decided he actually did need the help.

The walk to the memorial was uneventful. They cut through back alleys and across abandoned lots. The few people they passed looked just as hard-up as they did.

"So what's this auntie of yours look like?" Nadeja asked as they walked up the broad stone walkway to the monument. Julian wished he'd picked somewhere a little less exposed.

"She's from my mom's side. Asian, long black hair, penetrating eyes. Bit of a fitness nut, you'll know her when you see her."

A few tourists wandered around the plaza. Some locals were eating sandwiches on the steps, but none of them looked like Alice. Julian's heart sunk.

"Think we must of got here first," Julian said with a tremble in his voice. Nadeja looked at him with sad eyes.

"We can wait for her on the steps," Nadeja suggested. "Probably just got caught in traffic."

The two of them sat down, Julian felt queazy. Nadeja chatted innocently about life in the tent city. Julian nodded politely, hearing nothing. He was lost in his own thoughts, feeling progressively sicker with each moment his mom didn't show.

He noticed a pair of beefy men walking toward the steps from opposite corners of the plaza. They didn't look at him, but seemed to be converging on him as if by coincidence. The timing was too precise though, a little to coordinated. Julian stood to bolt, and felt a large hand clamp his shoulder from behind.

"Let's not make a scene Julian. Wouldn't want you or your lady friend to get hurt."

"Artem?" Julian hazarded.

"Smart lad. Both of you stand up and follow me out. No sudden moves, no yelling."

"Carson, what the hell is going on?" Nadeja asked. Another man had sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry Nadeja. I didn't mean to get you mixed up in this. These men are dangerous. You should do what they say."

Nadeja nodded gently, looking betrayed.

Artem and his companions led the two of them out and down the side steps, then up a short dead-end street. A windowless delivery van awaited them at the end.

"Here's our ride lovebirds. Mind your head." Artem zip-tied Julian and Nadeja's hands, then rudely shoved them into the caged-off back. The door slammed shut behind them. Through the wall Julian heard Artem make a joke in a language he didn't understand.

Four cracks sounded in rapid succession and the men went quiet. Julian passed several minutes staring at the floor, unsure what would happen next. Nadeja burned holes in his forehead, but he couldn't meet her gaze.

The door slid back open to a familiar voice. "Hey kid, long time no see."