Free To Tell the Truth by Anna Smith

moaning that the problem in the Costa was that it took the Spanish forever to do anything.
    ‘ Mañana , always mañana ,’ the leathery-faced English guy with the shaved head and tattooed biceps ranted. His mate chirped in with some anecdote about getting a Spanish plumber to do some work around their house. Their fat women giggled as the guy did a poor impression of the hapless Spanish waiter Manuel in Fawlty Towers .
    Typical Brits abroad. No wonder everyone hated them. When were they going to get the message that their empire had disappeared up its own arse decades ago.
    Rosie grimaced ruefully at the waiter who took her drinks order. He made a bored face. He’d heard it all before. She sipped her red wine and looked at the moon on the water. She took her mobile out of her bag and fiddled around with it, going through the directory of names and stopping at TJ’s. She resisted the urge to ring it, to see if the number was still dead. And anyway, she’d moved on, hadn’t she? A sudden wave of loneliness swept over her, taking her by surprise. She shook herself immediately out of it. No time for that crap. She sat herself up straight and got her head into work mode. Where was this little bastard?
    On cue, Taha arrived from behind her and sat down.
    ‘Hello, Rosie.’ He smiled at her with his big brown eyes. ‘I am very happy to see you again. You are very nice lady.’
    Rosie looked at him. Surely to Christ he wasn’t goingto offer himself for rent. She gave him a blank look and waved the waiter over. Taha ordered a coke, and asked if he could have a sandwich.
    ‘Of course.’ Rosie handed him the menu.
    ‘Is it okay to have a steak sandwich?’ He looked genuinely concerned.
    Rosie noticed he was a little fidgety.
    ‘Sure. Of course.’ She turned to the waiter. ‘With French fries.’ She smiled at Taha. ‘What the hell. Let’s push the boat out.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Taha said. ‘I am very hungry.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘Always hungry, because I am always running around and working. Last night I worked on the boat. Very late. So I not get time to eat much. Or sleep.’
    He pulled his chair a little closer to the table so when he leaned forward he was nearer Rosie. The dark smudges under his eyes were more pronounced than yesterday. ‘That is what I want to talk to you about.’
    Rosie watched him, wondering if he was on something. He was a lot more jumpy than he’d been yesterday. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the gory details of his work, but she’d better listen anyway.
    ‘The boat?’ she said. ‘You worked on the boat? What boat?’
    ‘Yes,’ Taha said. ‘It belong to the Russian. The big boss Mr Daletsky. Mr Viktor Daletsky. He is very rich man. He own everything. Everywhere.’
    Rosie looked at him. No bells rang. ‘Daletsky?’
    ‘You know him?’ Taha said.
    ‘No, I don’t. What were you doing on his boat?’ Rosiehoped he would spare her the graphic details of bottoms being breached.
    Taha took a swig of coke. His steak sandwich arrived and he scooped up a handful of chips as soon as the waiter put the plate on the table. He chewed fast and gulped the food down.
    ‘I work in the kitchens for a little while. They have some kind of big party last night. Lot of people. Then I am there in case anyone asks for me.’ He sighed. ‘You know, like … the clients. If my boss tells me someone wants me for a while, then I will go to one of the rooms on the boat. The cabins.’
    Rosie kept looking at him curiously, wondering why he was telling her all this.
    ‘Who is your boss? Is he Russian too?’
    ‘Yes. He is Russian, but also he has a boss and he is the Albanian called Leka. He is a big boss. Very big man. Everybody afraid of Leka. My boss is scared of him. He runs all the business for them.’
    Rosie was feeling a bit lost. What had the Russian millionaire and the Albanians got to do with this rent boy – apart from the obvious, that he was just part of their