Besiktas, Turkey

The address took them to a place a little further away from where they were in the beginning. They had to take a bus. For some funny reason, the streets were full of people who, like ants, were going in one direction only. Apparently, the timing was not ideal, they just did not know it at the time. And the worst of all? Being in a red shirt in that neighborhood hours before the derby. From a distance, a group of shirtless men started to stare at Belgium for no apparent reason down the street. And of course she noticed and started to feel annoyed.

- Why are those guys staring at us? - Belgium asked, innocently.

Vini was the first to notice the detail.

- Hey, isn't that the Besiktas shirt?

- I think so. - Enzo confirmed.

- What is Besiktas? - Belgium didn't understand.

- It's a Turkish football team.

- Oh, thanks for the clarification.

- Yes, you should know that this is what will kill us. - Enzo said.

- Say again?

- Today is derby day.

- What's derby?

Enzo stared at Vini.

- Can't you teach your girlfriend anything useful?

- We might talk about it later. - Vini ignored. - But how do you know that today is game day?

- I bet on Besiktas.

- Oh, shit.

- That's right. Your girlfriend in a red shirt, it cannot possibly end well for us. We need to go to some store and take her clothes off.

It was Belgium's turn to give Enzo a look.

- Nobody is taking my clothes off, you idiots!

- You're right. Would you rather be trampled and stabbed to death by crazy Turkish hooligans?

- They wouldn't kill us just because I was wearing a red shirt, right?

Enzo and Vini didn't reply.

- If you had done your homework, she wouldn't ask that question. - Enzo said to Vini.

- I'll buy you a black shirt, honey.

- What a moronic thing to do! Why don't you just watch the games without having to kill each other?

- Hey, you almost killed your sister for wearing one of your dresses.

Belgium felt offended.

- It's completely different!

- Different how?

Before she could answer the question, Vini, Enzo and Belgium had to get away from the group, which was carrying smoke flares and musical instruments. Belgium, wearing the red shirt, could easily be mistaken for supporters of Galatasaray, Besiktas' historic enemy. And mistaken means beaten to death by the home team's fans. To avoid further problems, Vini went to a small shop and bought a shirt without sleeves for his girlfriend. And a bottle of water. And an ashtray. And a lighter for Enzo. All for only 7 Euros.

- Thank you, European Union. - Vini said.

As time went by, the streets became even more crowded. They didn't know it, but the Vodafone Park Arena, the home stadium, was only a few kilometers away, so the intense flow of people made sense. What did not make sense was the address the man had given them, because they pictured a very different environment.

- This house is not what I thought it would be. - said Vini. - I mean, it doesn't look like someone who is trafficking people.

- And what do these places look like, Vini?

- The shitty neighborhood we left twenty minutes ago?

Enzo had a point.

- Let's just ask and get the fuck out, shall we? - Belgium pressed the doorbell, already expecting a tragedy.

To her surprise, a child of about four years old answered it. He smiled in an innocent, even welcoming way, and waited for Belgium to introduce herself.

- Uh-oh. That doesn't sound right. - Vini said.

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- Hello. - she said to the little boy. - Is your father home by any chance?

The child closed the door without saying anything and ran out.

- See? - Said Enzo. - It wasn't all bad. We still have our skins on and our hair in place.

Seconds later, a man appeared in the driveway of the residence. It had to be Dmitri.

- Who are you?

- My name is Belgium and...

- Belgium? - The man was surprised.

- Yes, yes, my name matches a country. I have seen that expression of surprise thousands of times. But that's not the point. May we come in?

It was clear that she was not going to leave with a negative answer. So Dmitri invited them in.

- You are Dmitri, right?

- Yes. Why?

- Because a man said I should contact you.

Dmitri didn't understand what this conversation had to do with him.

- Our friend was taken for smuggling.

- And what's that got to do with me?

- To begin with, the man said that you know exactly where she is.

- What is this guy?

- I have no idea. We never asked his name.

- There might have been a small fire. - Vini added.

- Small fire? Belgium may have burned down the whole neighborhood! - Enzo didn't understand the irony.

- Mavelov is dead?

- If it's the person we're thinking of, yes. Dead as a doornail. But it doesn't have to be that way, Dmitri. Just tell us where our friend is.

- How am I supposed to know where your friend is? She's white, brown-eyed, pretty? You've basically summed up all the goods!

- Goods? - Belgium immediately objected.

- Ana is not a commodity! - Vini followed her.

- Yeah, we saw her first, so she's our commodity! - Enzo, well, it was the usual Enzo.

- Enzo! You complete and utter idiot!

- Look, I don't know about this Ana. - Dmitri defended himself. - And besides, she should already know.

- How should she know? The black market is not something you can say "hey, let's go to the mall" and fall into the hands of organized crime!

- Come on! A modeling service guaranteeing instant money and success? It's not the 1990s anymore.

Oh, Belgium could not stand that conversation any longer. In order not to burn down another residence, she just asked the million-dollar question:

- Where is our friend Ana?

- I don't know.

- Well, you better know. We killed your friend, we can do the same to you.

Vini needed to talk some sense into her.

- Belgium, darling, threatening a Russian never ends happily. Ask the Germans.

- I couldn't care less. Dmitri, you better tell us where our friend is.

- All right, all right, all right. Let me do the talking. I sold her to a Saudi prince.

- What would he do with a fifteen year old girl?

Once again, Enzo had to remind Vini of what he had said moments before.

- If you had done your homework, she wouldn't ask that question.

- What is his name?

- Mohammed Bin-Al.

- Is that all?

- It's black market, not Amazon deliveries.

- Well, it's better than nothing. - Vini tried to look on the bright side.

- Is she alive?

- I think so. The army people took good care of her.

- We need an address to find her.

Dmitri held back his laughter.

- And what?

- Exactly, love. - Vini followed. - And what do we do?