Finally, Pavel discovers what he’s been looking for. There’s a work bench running the length of the long, low building, stacked with plastic containers. He opens one and the smell of formaldehyde hits him. Half-a-dozen plastic bags fill the box, each containing a human hand. He pulls on a pair of surgical gloves, breaks the seal of one of the bags, and removes its contents. Where the wrist has been severed a flap of skin has been neatly folded over the joint, and on the skin is a printed barcode. This one is the hand of a of a young woman, slender, with long delicate fingers. Pavel takes photographs, then carefully replaces the hand in its plastic wrapper. There are hundreds in the containers, all similarly packaged. He decides it’s time to leave. Coming out into the yard he notices sprayed on one of the barns the words ‘export only’. The paint is still wet, and a spray can lies discarded on the ground nearby. He peels off his gloves and throws them down next to the aerosol. The keys to someone’s car are in his pocket and he presses the fob. The lights of one of the vehicles flash and the doors click as they unlock. Slipping into the driver’s seat, he switches on the ignition and attempts to put the car in gear. But the mechanism refuses to engage. Then he sees the black 4×4 coming slowly down the narrow, rutted lane towards the farm. The evening sunlight reflecting off the car’s windscreen obscures the face of the person driving, though Pavel is certain he knows who it is.
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Simon Collings
Picture Nick Victor
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